


Winifred Sola Lovegood: A Life in Bits and Pieces

by smolder



Series: Winifred Sola Lovegood [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-27
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 33,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolder/pseuds/smolder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interconnected drabbles relating the life and times of an old soul in a new world with lots of other people to help and hinder along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stares

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: I am going to go ahead and post everything I already have up over at Twisting the Hellmouth, then continue on my usual routine of posting two drabbles a day. Just wanted to let you all know.

It took Fred a long time to understand that people were pointing and staring at her for a reason.

She wasn't stupid. It was just that for as long as she could remember _everyone_ she knew got stared at and whispered about.

People stared at her mother with her sense of style that nobody could keep track of, large eyes, and odd sense of humor and reality.

They stared at her Draco-dragon because he was rich and he told her that his whole family did bad things in the war.

They stared at Uncle George because he only had one ear. And they whispered because he had lost something else. Someone else. A brother. A twin that shared her name.

There were crowds and on a few occasions paparazzi when she went anywhere with her bio-Dad because he was the Hero. The Boy who Lived they all called him. Which was a funny name because he wasn't a boy he was a Daddy.

Aunt Hermione got recognized because she was one of the Golden Trio. One of three. 1/3. But that didn't make sense since she was her whole person as well. People made up odd nicknames.

The only person that really didn't get much attention was Aunt Hannah which was so silly because she was a MediWitch. She saved peoples’ lives and delivered babies every day. Plus she was _really_ pretty.

And even _she_ got stared at some too because she was always with Uncle Neville who was another Hero of Hogwarts. He even got to cut off a super evil snakes head, which was neat.

So, it wasn't lack of noticing the looks or whispers. Maybe, she was guilty of not noticing the contents of the whispers or the fact that often times the stares were directed at her not who she was with.

She was seven and she had wandered away from Aunt Hermione in the bookstore the first time she remembers truly recognizing it. There were two women slightly behind her whispering loudly about her birth and what type of person her mother was. Mean things. Bad things. Things she knew were wrong (and some she knew were right).

Fred clutched the book shelf in front of her tightly and breathed deeply as she felt anger wash over her. An image came to her mind of blonde spikey hair and a cocky smirk and she smirked at him in agreement as she turned on her heel to look at the women head on.

And flipped them the bird.


	2. Sugar, Spice, Flamethrowers & Science

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.

Her dreams always ended in blue.

She hated the color blue.

The dreams were of a girl who grew up to be a woman. Strong and smart. Who had so many friends and fought with all she had for good. Fought monsters with science and sometimes flamethrowers. And died anyway.

Please Wesley, why can’t I stay?

“Let me stay!” she gasped as her world flashed blue she woke up in bed not Winifred Burkle, but Winifred Sola Lovegood.

She slipped out of bed and wandered down the hall into her mother’s room. She stared at her mother’s sleeping form for a moment before poking her gently.

“Mommy,” she whispered.

Luna opened her eyes instantly and held out her arms. Fred crawled into the warm bed with her.

“Did you dream again, my little sunbeam?” she questioned gently.

“Yes,” she whispered back her voice breaking as she remembered how this one had ended. The memory of the pain had faded but whenever she closed her eyes Fred feared she would be swallowed by blue.

“Please, tell me the story again,” she whispered looking up at her Mommy; her only safe place, the only one who could make all the blue go away.

“Of course,” she said smiling and stroking her hair soothingly. Luna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Mommy always closed her eyes when she told the story of the other Fred. “Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived all alone in a horrible cave - so far from home that it made her chest hurt. And every day in that horrible cave, the girl tried to figure out a way to escape. None of her plans ever succeeded, of course and she'd almost given up hopin' when one day, just like in a fairy tale, a handsome man rode up on a horse and saved her……”

Fred felt something deep inside her seem to both fill up and relax at the same time as she heard the familiar words. This was the beginning part. The other Winifred had many stories but this is where it began; not really because she had been a kid once too like Fred and everyone else and Fred liked those stories as well. But her favorites adventures were about after she had been rescued by the handsome man (who wasn’t only a man) and found friends who fought monsters together.

Fought the good fight. With a flamethrower. And science.

With those thoughts she smiled and finally drifted back off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: In case you were wondering the story of Fred is quoted from the Angel episode Fredless.


	3. Must Be Skilled in Potions & Have Good Reflexes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Like many things in his life, Draco decides this is his mother’s fault.

He could feel her eyes on him as he read the newspaper. Considering. Plotting. He knew his mother. He had to get out of the manor or he would be married within the year to someone he barely knew and there would be a Malfoy heir within five and he wouldn’t know what hit him.

After Voldemort was defeated - and thank Merlin for that - they got the manor back after a series of hearings in which Harry Potter, of all people, vouched for them. Well, mainly for Narcissa. The Malfoys somehow got through it all in tact. Or mostly in tact.

Lucius at this point was so beaten down by Azkaban and the Dark Lord that he just wanted to live out the rest of his life never leaving the manor and devoting his life to his hobby - books.

Yes. Books.

Reading books, making books, writing books. It was his new hobby. However, the thing about making books magical or otherwise was that like potions it was largely an intricate hands on process. Near the end some of them could be made to scream or go invisible or such things. It seemed though that most of his fathers’ books were mostly normal if quite……he felt strange saying it, beautiful.

Apparently he was the only one who found this odd because his mother took it as par for course and encouraged him to get his own hobby as well.

Which honestly made him a bit nervous.

But what could he do? The Malfoy name was a deterrent these days not something that opened doors and it wasn’t something he would want to barter with anyway. With a sigh he flipped over the newspaper.

The wanted ad read: Inventor, Financial Manager, Salesmen – Must Be Skilled in Potions, Charms & Have Good Reflexes. Occasionally Dangerous Work Environment.

He was intrigued.

The address given was for the Leaky Caldron but it was not uncommon for people to hold meetings in some of Tom’s back rooms. He glanced up as his father wandered past mumbling to himself with some tea on the way back to his books and then at his mother who when she caught his eye smiled serenely and went back to writing a letter. Yes, he would definitely be going.

***

It was odd and uncomfortable to wait around in a bar for an interview. Draco stared blankly at the glass of untouched Butterbeer in front of him and attempted to ignore the accusing glares at his back.

“Malfoy,” the bartender said and he kept his face still but flinched internally. “Go on back, second door on the right.”

He nodded and placed more then double the amount of the beverage on the counter before moving on. He walked down the hall and paused at the door to take a deep breath. He was a Mal….He was Draco. Then he opened the door and froze.

“Well”, said George Weasley “are you going to come in or not?”

Draco swallowed and entered the room closing the door behind him. The Malfoys might have been basically avoiding the world in general but they wanted to keep out of the way of Potter and the Weasleys in particular.

“I didn’t know……” He cleared his throat and tried to regroup. “Why aren’t you doing interviews at your shop?”

George sighed and gave a self deprecating grin, “The type of people who would come to a job opening at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes aren’t quite the people I want to employ. I tried that and it was all people who liked our stuff,” his mouth became a grimace, “my stuff. Which is nice. It’s wonderful to have fans. Great for business. Not what I need in an employee.”

He gathered the papers on the table and gestured to the table in front of him, “So Mr. Malfoy...”

“Draco,” he interrupted as he was sitting. “I, just Draco.”

George paused and sat the papers back down slowly his eyes assessing. “Draco, since you didn’t know this was for my shop. A joke shop. What made you come. Why did you think you were qualified?”

Draco considered what he _should_ say. Draco considered lying. Instead he told him the truth.

“I don’t want to be my parents. I don’t want to just be a rich bastard who does nothing and have my mother marry me off to some poor girl just so there can be a Malfoy heir. I’m good at things. I’m smart. I was always near the top of my class. I don’t want to waste that. I don’t want to be a waste. People will always look at me and see what my family did during the war and that’s fair. That’s more than fair but that doesn’t mean I have to live up to it.”

George tilted his head and stared at Draco pensively. He wondered if he had purposely tilted his head to the left so that the wound where his ear had been shorn off by Death Eaters showed prominently. If this was some sort of test in itself.

Draco purposefully looked at the scar for a moment and the calmly turned his eyes back to George’s face.

He was smiling. “You have the job. Trial basis mind you, I have to make sure that you’re as good as you say and that you’re going to work and not just come in.”

Draco just stared at him for a second. He had just gotten a job on his own merit. In spite of being a Malfoy instead of because he was a Malfoy. Then he smiled back and shook George’s extended hand.

It felt damn good to be just Draco.


	4. Freely Given

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.

Luna was in the wondrous position of having total job security after the war. Technically she knew that she was eligible to go back to school and take her 7th year, but once she became pregnant she instead took the Ministry’s offer and accepted the Battle of Hogwarts as her graduation.

It was funny how “after the war” or “now that Voldemort is gone” was how everyone seemed to describe things. Like it hadn’t happened before.

Mr. Ollivander had had a very hard time during his imprisonment by Voldemort at Malfoy manor. While she was with him Luna had always tried to help her fellow prisoner in any way she could. With very few options, this usually fell to telling stories. She would tell him of all the places she had been with Daddy. All of the marvelous creatures she had seen and wanted to see. Would whisper to him of how much more magic was than what people ever gave it credit for.

He never responded. During their entire stay in the Malfoy dungeons he was largely catatonic apart from screaming when they tortured him and the few times she could get him to eat and drink. When they were occasionally given it, that is.

After they were all rescued by the brave house elf Dobby, who gave his life in the attempt, he seemed to recover somewhat at Bill & Fleur’s cottage. One day he presented her with a new wand to replace the one taken from her when she had been kidnapped and asked her quite calmly if she had ever considered a profession in wand making.

For one of the few times in her life, Luna was surprised. Wand making was a highly specialized and revered art form. It took a very particular set of skills which was why there were so few wand shops in the world. The wand chooses the witch or wizard and was their constant companion and only way to access their magic for the rest of their life.

Over the next few weeks, they had many talks. He told her how she was one of the few who could see the magic in people, creatures, and things and he could teach her how to use that to trace which wand would best suit which person. How she had a calm and a patience, that she wouldn’t get scared or upset at children's unavoidable magical outburst. But what fascinated Luna the most were their talks about wand cores.

Components from magical creature freely given he said were much more pure. Infinitely more potent. And Luna had always had a way with magical creatures. This. This was something she could do. Luna agreed to the proposition, much to Ollivander’s delight.

Her pregnancy didn’t affect Ollivander’s job offer one bit. In fact, he was even more pleased that she wasn’t going back to school and could start working for him and become his apprentice even sooner. Ollivander was quite conscious of his age (although no one else was) and his imprisonment had made him well aware of his own mortality and he had much to teach her.

All through her pregnancy she entered the Dark Forest without fear. She had been going into it throughout her time at Hogwarts and thoroughly understood how to navigate it while respecting its residents. In actuality her incredible burgeoning spawn seemed to make her job easier as many of the creatures she might have in the past have had to search for instead sought her out. The thestrals in particular seemed fascinated by her child-to-be and would calmly allow her to remove a few hairs as they nuzzled her distended belly.

She always felt a warm glow when she entered Ollivander’s shop (with her bag full of specially packaged and labeled with their name beside their species containers: Thestral - Buttercup, Centuar - Ronan, Unicorn - Phillip, or Acromantula - Aragog) and he would proudly look up from his customer at the newly 17 year old heavily pregnant girl and say. “Ms. Lovegood! What wonders has my apprentice got for me today!

Yes, she could do this


	5. A Problem Like Minerva's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Minerva tapped her fingers idly against the desk, resisting the urge to shift into her feline form and pace back and forth.

People were mourning their dead, happy to be alive, and stunned the war was over. Hell, so was she. She had lost comrades, friends, and loved ones. So many students she had seen grow up before her had fought and died on either side.

Severus, Remus, Tonks, Colin, Fred……

And then there was Albus.

He was the one that still hurt the most. That still felt the least and most real to her. Sitting here at the Headmasters desk it still felt like she was sitting in his seat. That at any moment he was going to sweep in and offer her tea and a lemondrop.

All she had to do to dispel the illusion was turn around and see his painting. A shell of the great but very human man she knew whose eyes she felt constantly boring into her back.

She wondered what he would do in this situation, but she refused to ask the……caricature for advice. Anyway, she wanted this to be her own decision. Her own hill to live or die on as it were. She wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing.

The problem, as it was, was that after everything calmed down a bit everyone would realize that it was still necessary for their children to be educated. This was lovely except for the fact that after Hogwarts got rid of its Death Eater infestation and you looked around at what was left over after the war she realized she was seriously lacking in staff. All in all she had a total of seven teachers and thirteen essential positions to fill. Not to mention poor Pomona had been asking to retire for years so that she could see her grandchildren more and Binns was looking more transparent all the time. Plus, this would mean she would be forced to keep on and put up with that hack Trelawney.

Minerva debated banging her head against the desk but settled for yet again cursing Voldemort to a chorus of disapproval to amusement from the various paintings surrounding her.

She sighed. Well, it was no use fretting about it. She wasn’t going to force Pomona to stay. Family was even more important after the war and her position was easy enough to fill. She had been recommending Neville Longbottom as her replacement almost since he walked into her greenhouse. She claimed she had never seen anyone else who understood plants like she did.

If anybody complained about his age, not that they would since second to Harry Potter he was the Hero of the Battle of Hogwarts, she would simply sight his experience.

Actually, she considered leaning back in the chair and sliding off her glasses absentmindedly as she thought, everyone in the “Harry Potter (and adjacent) Years” as it were had to become experienced in ways that no other children that attended Hogwarts ever had. Attacks, catastrophe, paranoia, and war surrounded him and affected them all. Shaped them all into a generation with a unique strength and knowledge.

She smiled and sat up abruptly. So, she had teaching positions that she desperately needed to be filled and a group of young adults that were exceptionally qualified and floundering for what to do now that the war was over.

Perfect.


	6. Antipodean Opealeye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“So, let me get this straight, you two,” he pointed at Harry and Ginny, “thought that sending Harry with the lovely Luna over there", he pointed to the opposite end of the table where the obviously pregnant girl sat, “to repeatedly get drunk at the ‘Victory Parties’ and nothing was going to happen because what? They’re not human?”

Harry bit his lip looked down and traced a whorl in the table like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, Luna’s hand was tense over her stomach but her eyes regarded him calmly, Ginny however, looked affronted and started to speak up. He interrupted her and turned to George instead who sat in between the couple and Luna as a sort of buffer.

“And you,” he pointed his finger at his brother, “thought it would be a great idea to break the cherry on the whole refillable glass invention using alcohol. Really. Nothing could go wrong with that. Tell me, George,” he said with mock fascination, “ who was the record holder that night for projectile vomiting?”

George scrunched up his nose at him and even Harry looked up in mild disgust. It was Ginny however who said “Charlie, you’re such a dick sometimes.”

He leaned back in the chair and regarded all four of them with a smirk. “Yup, that’s why I don’t spend much time around people. But at least my life isn’t as bloody stupidly drama filled as yours.”

 

***

 

Later he found Luna leaning against the wall in the stairway with her eyes closed. You could hear raised voices coming from the Weasley kitchen only a few feet away. His mother and sister the loudest and his father futilely attempting to calm them.

Her eyes popped open when he got closer and she saw him, “I’ll head back in, in a moment.” She attempted to smile faintly but it only made him notice how very tired she appeared. Charlie didn’t know her well but he wondered if she was paler than usual, or if this was always how she looked.

There had been a rare Antipodean Opealeye dragon at the reserve who after it had mated and conceived much to all of the handlers great delight had then slowly wasted away due to stress. Both dragon and unborn baby dieing slowly. The image of the multicolored eye of the once great dragon turning the same pearly color of its scales as its body, skeletal except for the bump of the dragonling went still. It still haunts him.

“Have you been sleeping?” he asked.

She gazed at him with those eyes which had seemed old on her young face even before the war but now seemed ancient. “I have been dreaming,” she replied.

“Well, you don’t look very rested why don’t you take a nap on one of the beds here while the Weasley women get some yelling out,” he reasoned.

“I should…,” she turned her head towards the kitchen just as there was a loud smash of a plate breaking and the voices getting even louder.

“You should rest,” he said again gently touching her arm. “For you and the little one.”

She smiled at him, a real smile, and stepped away from the wall only to stumble. He easily caught her and eased his arm around her waist.

“I got ya, I’m used to working with magical creatures a hell of a lot bigger than a pregnant bird,” he said grinning down at her.

She grinned back at him, “Charles, you might be a dick sometimes, but I think perhaps you would make a good friend as well.”

He chuckled and they made their way up the stairs, followed by the echo of Molly Weasley’s angry voice.


	7. Beatin' Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

It quickly became apparent that Fred would not be a seeker. Her father might have been a great seeker, but Fred didn’t seem to see the point. George was afraid he was even quickly losing ground with the game of Quidditch in general.

As a last ditch effort he handed the bored seven year old girl a bat and opened the container with the children’s training bludgers. His eyes went wide. They were blue. By a young age Fred’s unaccountable aversion to the color was legendary.

He quickly closed the container but one of the two balls escaped anyway and went straight towards Fred.

And she hit it.

She hit as if she wanted to murder the bloody thing. Quite a ways across the yard, in fact, he thought shading his eyes with his hand and looking.

Fred looked, too. She was breathing slightly hard and her eyes, behind her glasses, were even bigger then normal. Then she looked back at him and asked, “Can I do that again?”

George smiled. A beater, then.


	8. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Hannah was in love. It made her smile too brightly and her cheeks glow and her hands shake if she thought about it hard which is why she needed to stop right now. Because that was highly unprofessional and she was a professional no matter how young she was damnit.

She took a shaky breath and smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt. _Breathe. Just breathe._ Hannah she could hear him whispering in her head calming her down as he had so many times during that dreadful year. _You can do it. Just breathe._

And she was smiling again. She made a noise of frustration and stamped her foot, grateful for the privacy of her office. Glancing at the clock she sighed. Three more hours. Three more hours then her shift was over and she could go visit him.

 

****

 

Walking up the pathway from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts felt very strange. She had only done so before as a student coming back to the dorms after one of the allotted monthly visits. There had been no visits to Hogsmeade during that year.

She shivered despite the warm weather. Hannah still felt vulnerable walking alone like this. You never ventured away from base alone. You went in groups of three or more. At least one attack, one defense, and always always one person designated as a constant lookout. Nobody had a set role so that if anyone got taken down the others could fill their roles fluidly. It was ingrained.

And they did get taken down. Captured, beat up, and tortured and by adults. By teachers. It had horrified Hannah at first this line that had been crossed. But although they held the title of Professor, she quickly saw it for the sham it was, they were Death Eaters through and through. Death Eaters any one of which could have been the person who killed her mother. Staring at them teaching classes some days, she couldn’t _Breathe Hannah._

When they came back from holidays and found out that Luna had been kidnapped they realized that things could get worse. And they did with no relief until The Room of Requirement was refound and refitted for their use. For its true use. Dumbledore’s Army.

The only real problem with having a place from which to stage gorilla attacks on the Death Eaters within the school once the food problem was taken care of was the fact that it was war and that meant everyone kept getting hurt. Now, no longer being able to walk freely within Hogwarts there was no Madame Pomfrey to go to patch them up.

This was where Hannah learned who she was. She was a Healer.

It had started in third year an upset stomach that led to a fascination with a strong often under-appreciated woman and what she did. Ms. Poppy, as she let Hannah call her sometime around her fourth year when she kept popping up, not because she was sick, but because Ms. Poppy knew so much. Did so much. Hannah knew she could never do that.

It took her a while to realize that Ms. Poppy was teaching her. That under the guise of helping her sort out her store room she was educating her on the different potions and magical herbs and what they treated. But she was doing it so calmly, so matter of factly that she didn’t panic, she didn’t stress out.

Hannah learned. These things flowed into her mind as easily as breathing. By the time her 6th year began, she would go to the Infirmary and hum to herself different ways to bring down swelling in a blunt force trauma wound as she folded linens when she wanted to calm down. Then that dreadful morning they told her that her mother had been killed _shh, Hannah, breathe_ and then took her away.

Away from her friends, away from distraction, away from any way to fight her anger and grief. Away from her calm.

But then, Ms. Poppy sent her a book. And another. Continued to teach her from afar and Hannah grabbed on to that like a lifeline. Read everything she could. Learned.

When it came down to it though, she was the only one they had, everyone depending on her to take care of them. It was no longer calm, no longer safe. All this knowledge in her head but she had never actually used any of it. Pressure built on her and he was there.

Hands solid on her shoulders, face dirty, eyes calm, “Breathe Hannah. Breathe. You can do this. We trust you. I trust you. Just breathe.”

She kept her eyes locked and breathed in time with him until she was calm again. Yes, she could do this. Hannah understood now. She was a Healer this was how she would fight.

And she fought hard. And she fought rough. And she fought dirty. The Room of Requirements couldn’t make food which meant it also couldn’t make potions or poultice. What was gotten from the tunnel into town or from random raiding parties wasn’t always what she needed. She learned to improvise.

Hannah got good.

And after the war, while they were both patching up the wounded, and putting the dead respectfully off to the side, Ms. Poppy saw that and showed her to the right doors. Gave those doors a bit of a shove, even, if she knew Ms. Poppy.

So now, Hannah had her dream job but there were times….

She had a hard time sleeping in her bed, wishing instead for the steady swing of the familiar hammock. The white noise of people surrounding her that meant they were safe. That meant he was safe. That meant she was safe.

With her hand on her wand Hannah was much happier when she passed through the gates and spotted her destination. She had no reason to go back to Hogwarts, the school, anymore but there was something that definitely held her interest on the grounds.

She opened the door to Greenhouse 3 and smiled as she saw him explaining something seriously to little Winifred Lovegood who was watching him just as seriously while sitting on a worktable, absolutely covered in potting soil.

Fred spotted her first and squealed happily raising her arms to be picked up, Hannah instantly complied crossing the room quickly not the least bit put off by the dirt.

Holding Fred, she looked up at her fiancé, who had the same dopey grin that she knew she had. He carefully leaned over the child cupped Hannah’s face and kissed her hello.

After the kiss ended she kept her eyes closed. Warmth, comfort, calm, plants, Neville, love. Home.

“Can I move in with you,” she asked opening her eyes.

“Hannah,” Neville said hesitantly, “you know I live in the abandoned greenhouse.”

“I know Neville,” she whispered looking down and playing with Fred’s hair, “it’s just… I miss,” she looked up again and met his eyes, “I miss home.”

Neville held her eyes calmly like he always did before abruptly hugging her to him, Fred squished in the middle giggled delightedly.

“Of course, Hannah. Of course.”


	9. Viperidae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Pansy knew how she was viewed after the war. The only thing anyone would ever be able to remember her for was that she was the person who stood up for her house in favor of turning Harry over to Voldermort to spare all of the students. It wasn’t as if everyone didn’t know Scarface wouldn’t end up going completely martyr anyway.

She just didn’t want to die.

But it didn’t matter, Pansy knew that there was no chance of anyone ever seeing her as a good girl after that happened so why even bother.

Which gave way to the most wonderful idea she ever had: Viperidae.

An upscale clothing and lingerie store that very obviously slanted Slytherin.

The war had made the house even more taboo. Why not just embrace it. Make it a brand. She was a sexy Slytherin bitch and that wasn’t going to change. She bet if she built it, they would come.

Pansy chuckled to herself. In more ways than one.


	10. The Burn of Her Ancestry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“What is zee problem, Bill?,” she whispered to her husband pulling her sleeping two month old baby closer to her. She had thought this was just going to be a simple visit to show off their baby to his side of the family since she knew Molly was still a bit miffed that she had given birth in France surrounded by her family. It was tradition however, Bill fully accepted that she was part Veela and all that it entailed (not just the beauty) and she accepted that he was part werewolf.

It was a much easier part of him to accept than his family, who was currently arguing. At least they had moved it into the kitchen and out of the living room away from her little Victoire.

He sighed like he always did when it concerned his mother and ran his hand over his scarred face tiredly, “Do you remember how I told you Harry had got Ginny’s best friend pregnant, right? Luna?”

“Luna?” she asked in surprise, “Ze girl who stayed with us during ze war?”

“Yes, she fought in the Battle of Hogwarts as well.” He cleared his throat, “It seems we came at an inconvenient time. Luna gave birth last night.”

She continued to stare at him, she knew there was more to it. There had to be or he wouldn’t be hedging like this.

“My mother,” he continued finally closing his eyes in a pained manner, “is arguing that Harry should be here. With Ginny. As her husband. With the family. She sees Luna now as getting in the way of that. Getting in the way of Harry and Ginny” he separated his hands broadly, “being Harry and Ginny” he brought them together.

Fleur was dumbfounded. She genuinely liked Luna. The girl had stayed at Shell Cottage with Bill and her and they had had many talks. She was a strong person and an excellent conversationalist as well as a calming influence on many of the others. For there to be so much hate directed at her and her child. A child! A life after a war that had seen so much death. It was a victory in and of itself no matter how it came into being. How dare anyone try to sully that.

The longer she thought about it the angrier she got. “’Old ze baby,” she told Bill and passed Victoire to her worried looking husband.

She stomped into the kitchen and felt fire bloom in her chest. Fleur might never be able to throw fireballs like her full-blooded Veela grandmother but she could still feel the burn of her ancestry in these times of righteous fury. When she entered the room all noise stopped and everyone’s eyes turned her way. She was not surprised. When she got like this neither men nor women could look away from her.

“I am ashamed of you,” she hissed at them trying hard to keep her English clear through her anger, “a baby was just born. New Life!” she threw her arms out dramatically. “And all you can do is bicker. Is zis why we fought? Why so many died?” Nobody answered her. “And this is Luna! She is just a barely ze woman herself and she fought in ze war beside us and now you would damn her to being alone for ze birth of her child?”

She was breathing hard as she looked at their stunned faces. She felt Bill put a hand on her shoulder and she calmed. “I am ashamed of you,” she repeated and spun on her heel to leave dramatically.

Bill chuckled slightly as he packed Victorie up in the carrier, “Well that’s going to make it a bit awkward at the next reunion,” he looked at his watch, “well we better hurry.”

“Were are ze going?” she asked her mind still caught up in her speech.

Bill straightened up and smiled down at her, “To the hospital, naturally, I caught earlier from their yelling that Luna was at St. Mungo’s. If we leave soon we can still visit for a bit.”

Fleur felt a warm glow settle over her quite different from the earlier fire. She loved her husband so very much. She had chosen well.

She grabbed a very surprised Bill by the ears and kissed him soundly.


	11. Namesake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Everyone was so careful not to be the first to say it. To christen the infant with his twin's name so soon after his death, even if it was the most obvious nickname. Even if you did somehow look at the girl and just think: Fred.

Everyone called her by her full name. Winifred. Their eyes sometimes stuttering over to him if he was in the room. No nicknames. Just Winifred.

Except Luna, for someone who as a child was the only one other than his Mother who called his brother Ronald instead of Ron, she sure had a never ending supply of pet names for her own girl. My Little Sunbeam, Super Spawn, Leveret, Whiskey-Eyes (which honestly made people more uncomfortable than Super Spawn) or she would just make highly accurate horse noises against the baby’s stomach for her little “Whinny”- Fred.

But he knew as he gently laid back on Luna’s couch, bringing the babe to rest on top of his chest, that if it was ever going to be seen as alright for the name to used again he was going to have to be the one to start. It was entirely stupid anyway, he missed his twin more than anything - a gaping wound that he knew would never never fully heal. A sense of balance and companionship that could never be replaced or duplicated. That did not mean, however, that the name Fred should never be used again, that he was somehow not strong enough to hear it .

From the back of the apartment, he heard Luna’s shower start up. She had been running herself ragged lately and she hadn’t exactly had an easy time of it before the little one was born. He was glad he had decided to come over and visit, she needed a few hours to herself to rest or she was going to get run down. Plus he still felt grateful that Luna didn’t hold a grudge against him since he was, as many in his family were quick to remind him, at least partially responsible for the inebriation fueled conception.

George gazed at the head of soft brown hair and gently ran his hand down her back, smiling softly.

“You’re going to be a right terror just like your namesake aren’t ya, Fred?,” he whispered.

Fred sleepily gummed one of the buttons on his shirt and George took that for agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: Whiskey was the name of Amy Acker's (the actress who played Fred) character on the television show Dollhouse. And Luna's patronus is a hare the baby of which is a leveret.
> 
> Yes, I am a nerd.


	12. Not So Magical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

You used to think magic was well magical. It was hard not to growing up in a very normal life with a milk man for a father where magic was only in fairy tales.

Then your brother gets a letter and a wand and goes to a castle to learn to cast spells. There are pictures that move, he can even take some with his camera and send them to you. For real. There is even a boy there who defeated the most evil wizard who ever lived.

The next year, you get to go as well. See it all for yourself. There is even a tournament going on with dragons, tasks, and mazes just like a fairy tale.

Then people start dying.

By the time second year ends Voldemort is back and war is declared. By the end of third Dumbledore is dead.

The world is still magical but all that means is that it is no longer safe. That people like Colin and you are no longer welcome at the school.

Fourteen is young to be on the run, but just not being at Hogwarts is no longer enough for the Death Eaters. They found the addresses of Muggleborns’ houses when they took over and groups are coming to take out each family.

You split up - Colin with Mom, you with Dad. You always have to keep moving because they control the Ministry and the Ministry can track underage magic. And no matter how hard you try neither of you can stop being magical.

And of course you still have the modified galleon for Dumbledore’s Army. When it warms in your pocket you know the time had come. You also know you were much to far away from Hogwarts to make it in time and the hurried lessons from a wizard they had walked with for a few days did not leave you with the confidence to attempt to apparate. Doing so would also leave your father to fend for himself.

You pray Colin had come to the same decision.

Instead, the two of you make your way on foot in the direction of the school you once loved. You arrive to the scene five days late. The battleground is now a celebration. Colin has already been buried.

You never find out what happened to your mother.

 

The knock comes to the door of your house less than six months later. You don’t know how they found you this time. Guess you’re still fucking magical.

It’s Professor (or that would be Headmistress now) McGonagall offering you a job.

You wonder if she knows you’re only 15. You wonder if she thinks you’re Colin. If she even knows which brother they buried. If she even cares or if they’re really that hard up for teachers, especially Muggleborn ones, willing to come back into that school that failed so badly to protect them.

You look back briefly at your father, attempting to drink himself into oblivion every day in front of the television, and take the job anyway.

Maybe you can teach the kids about the damn Holocaust. Show them a mirror to how it looks when it’s not so magical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: In case you weren't sure it's POV of Dennis Creevey.


	13. Family Favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Working for George Weasley was one thing, having the girl that your family held prisoner in its dungeon rush in and absentmindedly hand you her child while she tried to find something in her bag was another.

That was his abrupt re-introduction to Luna Lovegood and his first encounter with Winifred.

(He doesn’t count the vase of flowers he had sent to the hospital. It was something he had to do. After what his family had done to her…….and the situation was just such a Potter-centric, scandal filled train wreck that he couldn’t look away anyway, even if he had tried.)

“Are you thinking of a girl, Draco?,” his Mother asked interrupting his thoughts. If he had truly thought getting a job would keep him away from her matchmaking attempts, then he was more naive the he thought he was.

“As a matter of fact I was,” he responded blandly.

“Really,” she said, sitting up, pleased, “Do, I know her? Where did you meet?”

“At work,” he answered honestly.

Narcissa’s nose scrunched up in distaste, “Don’t be so crass Draco, Malfoys’ don’t work. We have hobbies.”

He ignored her comment and sighed in mock regret, “It won’t last anyway Mother, she’s much too young.”

“There, there, Draco, I’m sure it will work out,” Narcissa patted his knee maternally.

He glanced at her in the corner of his eye, “She just had her first birthday a few months ago, Mother.” He let out a guffaw, “George watches over the Lovegood girl at the shop sometimes”, he explained throughout his merriment.

Her eyes narrowed and she snatched her hand away. Draco was delighted though, he never got one over on her.

Angrily she picked up her tea but then her expression carefully smoothed, “Now I don’t feel nearly as bad about the favor I was going to ask you.” She gave him a significant look, “A family favor.” She smiled deviously, “Perhaps you can even include your girlfriend.”

He froze. Oh no.

 

****

 

That was how Draco found himself standing in front of his family’s former captive’s door with a rucksack full of “necessary items” he had been partially afraid to look at, holding the hand of a half-werewolf, half-metamorphmagus little boy.

With nothing left to do. He knocked.

Luna answered barefoot with Fred on her hip. When she saw who it was she stared and he did as well.

Teddy looked up at the adult and child and broke the uncomfortable moment (he was an orphan and he had Blacks, Tonks, and damn werewolf blood in him, he was probably used to uncomfortable moments already) by changing his hair wavy and dark brown. Fred pointed and cackled causing Teddy to grin back at her.

Well, Draco thought, at least someone made a friend.

Luna’s face had softened as well, though, and when she looked away from the boy on her doorstep she smiled at Draco and said, “Why don’t you come in for some tea while the little ones have a play date?”

 

****

 

And it was actually going relatively well, they were talking about the shop mostly and she had just got through telling a rather funny story about George (a feather, a cardboard box, and a bowl of something called “Jell-O”). Then Potter showed up.

When she saw him come through the Floo she looked almost as surprised as she had to see Teddy and him. Her eyes wide and her face startlingly blank for a moment.

She immediately stood up and smiled however, “Harry! I didn’t know you were coming today. Fred will be so happy to see you! I’ll go put on some more tea.”

They both watched as she left the room and as soon as she was out of sight, the other man turned to face where he was seated.

“What are you doing here?”, Harry demanded immediately.

“It’s a play date, naturally,” Draco responded as blandly as possible waving his hand around, channeling his mother a bit. Cool, bored, amused.

Harry did a double take when he looked at the other child playing on the floor, “Is that my godson?”

“And my nephew,” he agreed (that wasn’t exactly right but Potter had never been one that seemed overly concerned with family trees). “Auntie Andromeda and Mother wanted some time to reconnect and well, how could I not take him for a few hours when they asked?”

Almost on cue Teddy changed his hair to white blonde, Fred clapped her hands in delight, and Draco had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back a smirk.

“You _know_ how important family is these days,” he couldn’t help but add as he picked up his tea.

Harry glared at him, but there really wasn’t anything he could say to that.

His mother forcing him to take care of Teddy Lupin for his Aunt once a week might not be such a chore after all if he could set up “play dates” with Luna and her child.

If it pissed off Potter...........all the better.


	14. A Girl With A Mind Like A Diamond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title comes from lyric of a song by the band Cake.

Hermione knew that the chances that her children would be witches or wizards were high. To Ron it was a certainty; witches and wizards had babies who grew up to be witches and wizards. To him it was squibs that were rare.

But she didn’t get her start in that world. She grew up in the world where students worried about A-Levels not OWLs. But maybe that was just her, not every little girl was considering such things at 11 after all.

It was still of great importance to her, however, that any of her children would go to Muggle ( _normal_ a voice in her head still whispered) school until they (and in case they didn’t) get a letter from Hogwarts.

Ron easily agreed since the career she fell into of researcher, magical textbook writer (all of her books are under the name Hermione Granger-Weasley. She wanted the name to live on somewhere), and all around academic left her as the primary caregiver to their children.

She hadn’t realized what simply placing Hugo in the local village’s Primary School would set into motion.

It was silly of her not to have noticed before. The name must have been on some of the lists he brought home. And she even remembers him mentioning once about another student helping him with his maths. But she is so busy and has nobody to call for advice ( _no Mom to ring up on the phone at any hour to calm her down. To assure her that she is doing this right. To let her know that she doesn’t have to be perfect to be a good parent. Because she doesn’t exist to them anymore. She doesn’t exist. Mr. and Ms. Granger have no daughter. Mr. and Mrs. Granger don’t even exist they only remember being Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins. No children._ ) and it has been 6 years now since the day he died (so many died), and really, Fred is a common name.

So, when she goes to pick up her child and is approached by Luna Lovegood looking so much like she always did – butterbeer cork necklace, flowing multicolored skirt, and a flower behind her ear – she feels taken off guard.

“Hermione, can you help me?” she asked right away. “Fred has already gone through all of the material for her classes.”

“Perhaps you should speak to the teacher,” she hedged trying to back away from the conversation. She had, a bit guiltily, tried to stay completely out of the conflict surrounding Luna and her child and, up until this point, had done quite a good job of it. Well, she had become pregnant herself with Hugo soon after Luna did and had Rose arrive barely a year later. Trying to balance two children with starting a career and keeping up her marriage, she sighed, after the years of “adventure” with Harry she had wanted to keep as much drama as possible out of her life for a while.

“I already have,” Luna replied promptly, “She is already giving Fred work two stages above her year level. But the only other suggestion she has is to send her away to a school for gifted students.”

“Hermione,” she stepped closer her voice falling to a whisper, her typically dreamy eyes were unusually direct, “we both know where our children are going in a few years I don’t want my little one away from me now as well.”

Hermione bit her lip and looked over at the children playing in the schoolyard as they waited for their parents to get them. Now that she looked for it she could easily pick out Luna’s child. Harry’s child. Wavy brown hair and glasses that sat in front of quick intelligent eyes. She sighed again.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

Luna beamed. “You’ve always been intelligent,” she began, “And you know about the Muggle world. My Fred is fascinated by everything. And she’s smart; soaks up everything quicker than a Gulping Plimpy.” Her pride in her child shone clearly, “But what she loves is science and I don’t know anything about science, Hermione. I don’t know what to give her.”

Hermione smiled sadly. Harry was missing this. In his effort to do what was right by his family with Ginny, he was doing what was expected of him by Wizarding Society and the Weasley's; in the process he was missing his first child. And she sounded extraordinary.

“I’ll owl you when I get home,” she told Luna, “We’ll set up a play date with Fred, Hugo, and Rose. I can show you all the local libraries. I’ll guide Fred through the science section, find out what level she’s at, what she’s interested in…..”

“Thank you, Hermione.” Luna said clasping her hands together joyously in front of her, “I can’t tell you how much this means to her and to me.”

Hermione turned back to the playground with a chuckle, “Don’t thank me yet, I’m the one getting the better end of the bargain here, it’s you who’s going to have to try to keep both Hugo and Rose quiet and entertained in a library.”


	15. Oh Merlin, Where's the Fontanel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Percy was conflicted.

Again.

On one side was his mother, the base of his family, who he really truly didn’t want to be in conflict with so soon after she had accepted him back so warmly after he had been just beyond awful during most of the past few years.

And on the other was a baby. A baby named Fred.

A name he was afraid he would never be afraid to disconnect from a memory. Laughing and joking for the first time since he was very young. Fighting off the Death Eaters and defending Hogwarts with his brother. Feeling light and joyous after his family’s forgiveness – accepted, a part of something for once.

Then everything falling to pieces. Eyes going dim with a laugh still on his lips.

No, he would never be able to hate a baby named Fred. Never be able to ignore it even.

Especially like now, when baby Fred was being held by George. It made his chest hurt.

(And made his brain hurt when he tried to overanalyze his emotional response because it wasn’t really _Fred_. It wasn’t even George’s child named Fred. It wasn’t even a boy. And as they had been twins there had never been an age differential that would have allowed such a scene to have occurred…….and he could feel a migraine building.)

“You alright there, Perce?” Lee asked putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Just thinking a bit too hard,” he said smiling up at the other man from where he was sitting on a chair in the kitchen intently watching George rock the baby in the living room.

He chuckled, “Well don’t wear yourself out,” he clapped him on the shoulder and then walked in the other room to join his boyfriend.

That’s what Percy liked about Lee, he could be loud, upbeat, and boisterous when commentating on game or on the radio, but he knew when not to push. Percy was also observant enough to know that Lee had been essential to George after Fred’s death.

No, he could never replace a twin. But that had never been his role to George anyway. He was there to be quiet with him. Anchor him. To put an arm around him during the never ending memorial ceremony and just let him lean. Let him be. Without Fred.

For that, Percy will always feel indebted to Lee. He doesn’t know what he would have done if George had drifted away as well. If his eyes had slowly dimmed of their laughter day by day. Of their life. Percy doesn’t think he would have been able to be the one to pull him back. Doesn’t think anyone in the family could have.

He pushed out of his chair and walked tentatively into the living room himself. George turned his head, “Want to hold her, Percy?”

He froze. Did he want to hold her? (No, no, unequivocally no. Under no certain terms. What if he dropped her? Weren’t there things to worry about like baby’s necks not being able to support themselves? Oh, Merlin. What if he snapped the baby’s neck? And a fontanel? Wasn’t there something about a fontanel? Where was the fontanel?)

But it was Fred.

“Alright,” he said.

George smiled at him, stood up and simply handed her to him. He floundered for a second, “Don’t I have to hold her a certain way?” he screeched nervously.

His brother laughed at him, “She’s five months old Perce, just don’t drop her or bang her head in to any walls and you’ll be fine.” Then he flopped down on the couch next to Lee, automatically throwing his arm around the other man and playing absentmindedly with his dreadlocks.

He turned his full attention to the baby who in turn was watching him with wide fascinated eyes. He reached down to push a curl off her forehead and she caught his finger and gurgled happily. He felt his heart skip a beat.

It seemed he had chosen a side.

“Hi Fred,” he said a bit hoarsely, “I’m your Uncle Percy. Whatever you do, please, please don’t stop laughing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: Yes, I do know where the fontanel is on a baby.


	16. Let Them Eat Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Dennis looked around the round table at all of the other new teachers. There were so many people he recognized, guess that meant anyone older that would have been qualified was dead. He supposed it was a bit like coming to a Hogwarts reunion only if Hogwarts ever had anything like that he wouldn’t have come and if they did this wouldn’t have been his year anyway.

“I am well aware that this is the first time teaching for all of you” Headmistress McGonagall began the meeting, “therefore you will have the previous Professors’” she stopped. “Well not the previous but the last true Professor to hold the post’s syllabi made available to you to base your own upon.”

He raised his hand and she looked at him in surprise, “Yes, Mr,..Professor Creevey, you have a question?”

“What if we don’t want to?” At her look of incomprehension he elaborated. “What if we don’t want to base our lesson plans on the teacher’s notes?” She still stared blankly.

“Look,” he said frustrated, “I assume you hired all of us for a reason. If you only wanted people who would follow handed down directions you only needed those who were at least barely literate.”

The table was tense, McGonagall adjusted her glasses and gave him a considering look. “What do you suggest, Professor Creevey?”

He leaned back in his chair, “All that was ever taught in Muggle Studies was how to work an oven. Which, well, most of the text are outdated since a lot of kitchens are digital now but, whatever, sure. Teaching witches and wizards how to live in the outside world, wonderful notion. I have no problem with that.”

“But,” he leaned forward again, “do they really know how to live outside their own little world here? You get caught using magic by Muggles in the outside world? What do you do? Obliviate them? What if it’s a cop? What if they have a gun?”

He glanced around the table at the shocked faces, “Do pure blood wizards even know what a gun is? What it can truly do? What about bombs? Nuclear weapons? Biological weapons?”

“So,” Millicent asked with her arms crossed, “you want to turn Muggle Studies into why we _really should_ be afraid of Muggles?”

He met her gaze head on, “Maybe it should be, because while you’ve all been so hung up on trying to turn your little community to dust with your stupid pointless blood feuds over the last few 100 years, Muggles have been getting smart. And that means they _should_ be properly feared.”

“All Professors,” McGonagall began and he turned back to her breaking eye contact with the Slytherin, “will be allowed to create their own curriculum. You are correct, Professor Creevey,” she said with a nod in his direction, “I did choose each of you for a reason. I trust you, your skills, and your judgment. The past notes are there if you wish to use them. You may also come to me or any of the other more,” she gave a faint smile “”well aged” teachers with any questions you have. Now if there are no more questions we shall move on to the next order of business.”

She brought out the Hat everyone froze. The Sorting Ceremony was not something that brought back good memories. Waiting tensely with a group of other first years to be separated into houses. To be chosen to belong somewhere that was meant to shape your identity for the rest of your life.

 _Dripping wet in the great magical hall after he had fallen out of the boat during the ride over only to be saved by the Giant Squid. Hoping against hope to be placed with his brother._

So many dead.

“I’m not going to sing,” was the first thing out of its mouth.

“Of course not,” McGonagall assured it in a slightly belabored tone. “Now,” she addressed the humans, “you don’t have to get resorted or anything.”

“I should hope not,” the Hat grumbled, “that’s always a pain in the ass with adults.”

Dennis relaxed a bit, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“The Hat, here” it folded its point down in a mock-bow when she pointed at it, “will choose which of you will be the head of each House. The person who best encapsulates the true ideals of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw and who is most suited to guide future generations of students.”

There was absolute silence in the room.

“Well Minerva, good job at not piling on the pressure. I could cut the tension in here with a knife. But, you know,” it gave an excellent approximation of a shrug for an old lump of spelled fabric, “that’s just a saying. Plus,” it added almost as an afterthought, “I don’t have any arms.”

McGonagall sighed and passed the Hat to the person seated to her right, “If you would start Professor Longbottom.”

Neville looked as if he would rather do anything else, but he dutifully placed the Hat on his head.

“Ow! Ow! Apples! Apples! My safe word is apples! I get that you don’t want to do it, just take me off your damn head!”

He yanked it off his head and sheepishly handed it over to Parvati Patil, who accepted it from him with a raised eyebrow.

“Much better,” the Hat murmured as it settled, “but, no. Next.”

She placed it directly on her twins head. Padma rolled her eyes playfully.

“Ravenclaw,” it declared decisively.

“Well naturally,” she said as she passed it along to Blaise Zabini, “I’m the only one you’ve got.”

Blaise looked at the hat distastefully for a moment before finally giving in and actually putting it on his head. And the Hat sat. And sat.

And sat.

“Hat?” McGonagall finally prompted.

“Hmmm, oh, yes, he has been with a lot of….” McGonagall glared, “that is to say,” the hat hedged, “he has lived quite a life but no. Not him.”

Blaise smirked as he passed on the hat to Millicent Bulstrode who gave him a fond glare before snatching it out of his hand and roughly shoving it on her head.

“Hey watch the….hmmmm,” the Hat trailed off with a surprised noise causing her to look a bit worried.

“Yeeessss,” it hummed considering, “this one for Slytherin.”

Looking slightly surprised Millicent gave the Hat to Percy Weasley treating it much gentler this time.

He took the Hat tentatively and when it touched his head it said, “Woah, what is it with you Gryffindors screaming at me. Just hot potato me around the table, boy-o”

Dennis sighed as he took the Hat from Percy and placed it on his own head. This was such a waste of time. There was so little left for him to live for these days. All he wanted to do now was make people understand. Understand what the world was like before it’s too late. Learn to take care of yourself before everyone starts dying this time. Maybe the next batch of kids won’t be as messed up as he was.

“Him,” the Hat sad with a decisive tone that rang through his entire body, not just his head. “Definitely him. Gryffindor in his core, this one.”

The others stared and he didn’t blame them. He was the youngest, had the least magical experience, and was the least qualified for this job to begin with. And now the stupid hat had made him Head of the Gryffindor House?

 _Still magical._ He bitterly pulled the Hat off his head and shoved it blindly to the side.

“Guess you can skip me then,” Oliver spoke in an over cheery tone, trying to break the tension and pushing the Hat off to the last person at the table.

“There’s no real use for me to do it either”, Susan said even as she placed it on her head, “I’m the only..”

“Hufflepuff! ,” the Hat proclaimed.

“….here.” She finished her sentence weakly, taking off the hat and handing it back to McGonagall.

“So, now that that’s done with who wants cake?”, the Hat asked.

The Headmistress sighed.

“What? You didn’t bring cake?” it asked “I thought I told you earlier that this would be horrible to get through and everything seems better with cake at the end.” He paused. “You really didn’t bring any cake.”

“No.” McGonagall ground out.

There was a long awkward silence where everyone stared at the tabled or fiddled with their chairs. Dennis just wanted to get out of here.

“You should have at least of brought some pudding,” the Hat persisted and McGonagall pinched her nose in an attempt to stave off a headache.

Despite everything, Dennis smiled a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: I think I, perhaps, had a bit to much fun with the Sorting Hat. In my defense, I always thought it would be quite a bit different without being forced to censor itself in front of little kiddies.


	17. Where Everybody Knows Your Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Seamus always had the best parties after the war - for one he refused to call them "Victory Parties". He understood that sometimes you have to forget for a while in order to remember how to live again. That basically meant that he always provided the best booze (in large quantities), lots of places to sit (or fall over) and chat if you wanted, but no pressure to do so if you didn’t. More than one person told him he should open his own bar.

When the next day he groggily pushed himself off the coffee table, one of the Patil twins, and what he really hoped used to be the dip for the crackers someone brought and the idea was still sticking with him (much like the dip) he decided to go for it.

He chose Hogsmeade (the opposite end from the Hog’s Head as he wasn’t trying to compete, mind) one of the many buildings that had been burned out by the Death Eaters. McGonagall donated a large chunk of the money needed for renovations in the name of supporting “Irish Wizarding Entrepreneurship”. He thinks she probably just wanted to have as many of “her kids”, that are still alive, doing well and where she can still keep an eye out for them.

Everyone was in that mind-set though, find everyone you can and keep them close. Personally, he was still overjoyed that he had a best friend again. Dean, because the Douche Eaters had thought he was a Muggleborn, seeing as his birth Dad left to protect him during the First War, had had a hard go.

He had been able to convince his family to leave the country while he went on the run but eventually the Snatchers had caught up with Dean and he had enjoyed a lovely stay in the Malfoy’s dungeon. Seamus doesn’t think he’s ever been so glad to see anyone as he was to see Dean come through that tunnel to fight in the final battle (without a wand even! Gryffindor to the core the tall idiot.).

After it was all said and done with they were able to send his family the all clear through a mode of communication they trusted. A way they both knew no Death Eaters obsessed with pure blood would ever think to use: e-mail.

And when the whole gaggle of Thomas’ tearfully got back together: life, joy, happiness, and family. Well, Dean had little interest in perusing a career where he would be utterly separated from them again. He still came and saw Seamus (Seamus made sure of this, he was _not_ letting his friend disappear after all they had been through) but really that was the only contact the other man wanted with the Wizarding World. Instead he was going for a degree at the Edinburgh College of Arts. He would often use the empty bar to sketch or study in before Seamus opened, he claimed it was much quieter then either home or campus and there was plenty of room to spread out his materials.

Dean had just headed out when the first customer of the day came in. He looked up from where he had been methodically wiping off glasses, (Dean mocked him mercilessly but it was a trademark of every bartender) it was still a bit early.

Seamus hadn’t expected the next time he saw Harry Potter to be in his bar. Although where else he would see him he wasn’t sure since his apartment was above the place and he barely went anywhere else.

The last time he saw the “Boy Who Lived” was on that night. The night of The Battle of Hogwarts. The night it all ended and everyone could finally take a breath, regroup, and attempt to get on with what was left with their lives.

He’s heard from Hannah and Neville, who occasionally come in for drinks together (so obviously in love it makes you want to barf rainbows – he’s actually pretty sure there’s something in the new line in the Weasley’s joke shop that does that), about what happened with Luna. And Ron dropped by not too long ago and told him that Harry and Ginny had gotten hitched and had proudly showed him pictures of some of Hermione and his’ little ones playing with theirs.

So, maybe it shouldn’t be unexpected to see him at his bar.

Harry sat down at the very end without noticing him. Seamus walked over with a grin and said in his thickest most awful fake Irish accent said, “So what’all ye be havin’ laddie.”

Harry’s head darted up in surprise and when he registered the face he looked even more startled but still smiled and said, “Seamus, I didn’t know you worked here!”

“Own it,” he stated stretching his arms out on either side of him. He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice so he didn’t. This was his baby. And he adored it.

“Wow,” Harry looked even more startled, “really.” He paused awkwardly.

“What?” he prompted.

“Well,” Harry said delicately his face scrunching up, “it’s called “Irish Pub”, you have a shamrock on the sign over the door. Isn’t this all a bit of a…….”

“A bit what Harry?” he asked, feigning befuddlement, allowing him to dig the hole deeper. Knowing that the other man was remembering the Finnigans’ rabid national pride during the Quidditch World Cup.

“A bit of a stereotype?” Harry finished almost apologetically.

“But Harry,” he said in a overly sincere tone, “I’m Irish,” he pointed to himself, “and this” he waved the hand with the rag in it around, “is a pub. What else was I going to call it.”

Harry’s lips twitched and Seamus chuckled. Which caused Harry to finally break out into loud guffaws.

“After Dean did the sign outside,” Seamus said and taking a deep breath as he leaned his hip against the bar, “he did this beautiful calligraphy sign that says “Kiss Me I’m Irish”. But we decided perhaps that was a bit too much.”

That set Harry off again.

“Perhaps, just a bit.” He said once he could catch his breath. “Maybe you could just bring it out for special occasions.”

Seamus chuckled at that and Harry took off his glasses and set them on the table. Running a hand over his face he took a deep breath and said, “Woo, I really needed that.”

Seamus filled him up a mug of Guiness from the tap, “You want to talk about it?”

Harry put on his glasses and looked at him doubtfully, but accepted the drink anyway.

He shrugged, utterly unrepentant, “I’m a barkeep now, this is what I do.”

Harry bit his lip hesitating, but Seamus waited patiently. He knew the look now of people with a lot to get off their chest and no one really to talk to about it. And Harry, well Harry was wearing that look like it was going to go out of style.

“It’s this whole thing with Winifred, the child Luna and I had,” he clarified making eye contact quickly before staring in his mug, “and then there’s Ginny and the kids. And Molly.” He gave a gusty sigh picking up his drink for the first time and taking a sip.

Seamus kept quiet and let him take his time.

“I love my kids. All my kids. But every time I try to go over to Luna’s to see Fred, Molly seems to somehow find out. And then she’s off.” His hand slashed to the side angrily for emphasis. “So, my child is being raised more by George, Neville, Hannah, and,” his face scrunched up in a look of amazed disgust “Draco than by me.”

“Draco? Draco Malfoy?” he asked in surprise. He knew that Luna had been in the Malfoy dungeon along with Dean. For her to now allow him near her child…..well Luna had always been the most forgiving person he knew along with the oddest.

“She calls him her Draco-dragon,” he half moaned dropping his head in his hands. Then he looked up despairingly, “When I try to spend time with her I can’t even take her anywhere. The press always hounds us, I don’t want to expose her to the type of things they screech.”

“Do you know what those vultures wrote when Winifred’s birth broke to the press,” he asked abruptly, sitting up straight and gripping his mug angrily.

Seamus shook his head. He got all of his news from the patrons of his bar these days – pure word of mouth seemed more reliable than the newspaper. It was just hard to trust publications that would cheerily print lies, slurs, and anti-Muggle propaganda at the drop of a hat. He had learned his lesson when he had initially believed what was written about Voldemort not being back. Internally he snorted. See how that one had turned out. And it sounded like it hadn’t got any better; he wasn’t at all surprised.

“”Apparently ‘Love’ is ‘Good’ – Harry Potter and the Child who Lived….Outside his Marriage””, Harry proclaimed bitterly in a mock announcer voice.

Seamus winced, that just wasn’t right.

“And that was just one of them,” he continued. “They really had a field day with Luna’s last name.”

He sighed, looked down and took a drink, “Molly went ballistic when she saw that one. Went on and on about the importance of “family” and how I was even more of a son to her now that Ginny and I were together and she was just worried about us. That we had to be responsible with Ginny pregnant and all. Look out for what was best for the “family”. For Ginny and I’s family.”

“She’s doing fine without me anyway. Luna’s a great mother and Fred has all of her “Uncles” and “Aunts”, he grimaced again, “and her Draco-dragon.” He fiddled with the handle of his mug refusing to make eye contact. “She’s probably better off without me. I can barely handle one family. My marriage with Ginny is….strained and I try to be a good father, but,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “maybe it’s better I don’t have the chance to ruin two families.”

Seamus tilted his head in mock thought, “Huh, you know I never realized it before.”

“What?” Harry said morosely glancing up.

“You’re really deeply stupid,” he nodded in a solemn manner.

Harry gaped at him.

“You truly believe staying away from your child. And from Luna, someone who was one of your best friends,” he reminded taking note of the way Harry flinched a bit at his use of the past tense, “is the best thing because Mommy-In-Law dearest and all the ass-hats who stood back and left the fighting to people like us and Luna,” he used her name purposefully this time relishing in his cringe, “are making it difficult?”

Harry didn’t answer, just stared at him with wide eyes.

He leaned forward against the bar until he was almost nose to nose with the other man. This close his eyes seemed very green.

“You are either very stupid or you are a coward. And I choose to believe the former because I don’t like to think the boy I followed into battle against the bastard responsible for death and misery of generations grew up into that sort of man.”

Seamus leaned back out of his personal space, “But that’s just me.”

He wandered down the bar to see to some other people who had walked in and left Harry to his thoughts.


	18. Master of Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“Why is there a rabbit on the table?” Draco asked. He had learned after his first few visits that when entering the Lovegood domain it was easier to just “go with it” but he felt the creature staring at him warranted the question.

“Oh?”, Luna looked up from watching Fred take apart what he believed was, if he remembered his Muggle Studies whatsoever, a toaster. “Don’t be silly Draco, he’s a hare.”

“Of course.” Draco took a sip of his tea and a quiet moment passed. “Is there a reason why his eyes are glowing?”

She drank some of her own tea calmly and magically re-sharpened another colored pencil for Teddy (his hair changed green to match it) who was sitting at the table with them working on a coloring book of mandalas that had been a gift from Hermione, before answering.

“He happened to eat a few things from the shop when no one was looking when Fred brought him around to show Mr. Ollivander. All old bits that weren’t usable, mind you. Nothing to worry about.” She smiled serenely.

“Ah.” Draco said faintly bringing his teacup down with a bit of a clank and now eying the rabbit, sorry, hare, even more worriedly. Wand components were some of the magically strongest things in the world. For something to just eat some, even if they were the bits deemed unusable….

Fred suddenly popped up beside him, startling him from his thoughts.

She stroked the brown hare slowly, “His name is Feigenbaum. He is the Master of Chaos.”

Both girl and hare stared at him unnervingly. Draco looked to her mother for explanation. Luna picked up her teacup and toasted, “To the Master of Chaos.”

“Here, here!” Teddy proclaimed raising his pencil in salute, his hair exploding into a riot of colors.

Draco looked around the insanity of the cramped kitchen table, so different from his own childhood. “To the Master of Chaos,” he said solemnly raising his own teacup.

He shared a conspiratorial smile with Luna as they clanked their teacups together.

He had come to love coming to the Lovegoods’ for play dates and tea. It was never boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: In the episode of Angel entitled 'A Hole in the World' Fred had a stuffed bunny toy named Feigenbaum.


	19. What They Deserve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Luna hummed nonsensically under her breath as she stroked her hair, nursery rhymes that she only half catches. She knew that her tears were soaking Luna’s shoulder through her sweater as she tried to gentle her through yet another crying jag.

Finally, Ginny Potter pulled away, awkward with her heavily pregnant belly, and wiped the last of the tears from her own eyes.

“I’m sorry Luna,” she said, “I keep doing this to you and I know it’s not fair, but whenever I have problems with Harry, the first person I always think to call is you. And I know that’s not fair after everything with Harry, Fred, and my Mom.” She started to tear up again and wiped them away angrily, “Damn hormones.”

Luna set her hand gently on Ginny’s knee, “It’s alright. George has been begging for a night with Fred and you’re my friend. You’ll always be my friend Ginny.” Her face took on a more concerned look, “But you really need to talk to Harry.”

“Once I get all of these pregnancy hormones out of me, I won’t be so teary eyed. It was the same way with James,” Ginny said trying to brush it off.

“You won’t be crying all the time, but you will still be unhappy all the time Ginny,” Luna continued in the same soft voice.

Ginny bit her lip, trying not to break down yet again, “I know,” she croaked out.

When she was a little girl and dreaming about her future, this is what she thought she wanted: married to Harry Potter with a beautiful baby boy and two more on the way. But people grow and change and although she loves Harry Potter the man, she doesn’t think she is in love with him anymore (she wonders sometimes if he was ever in love with her) and she knows, _knows_ deep down that if they keep going how they are, it’s going to destroy any love left between them. The marriage she is in can’t work how it stands now and (pregnant - with another child in the other room) that scares her.

She reached out her hand blindly to the side and Luna was there (like always) and laced her fingers through hers. Merlin, Luna. What had she ever done to deserve a friend like Luna? How did someone like Luna even exist?

Luna should hate her. Should never speak to her. Not that she ever did anything to her exactly, it is all of the things she wasn’t strong enough to do. Wasn’t strong enough to not give in to her mother’s insistent prodding and hurriedly marry Harry after Luna got pregnant. (Maybe if they waited a while Harry would have been able to form a stronger bond with Fred. Maybe Harry and Ginny would be in a more stable place now instead of feeling so trapped and pressured from all sides.) Strong enough to argue until she was blue in the face that Harry should be at the hospital, but never went herself even after Fleur, Fleur of all people told them off and stormed over with Bill.

Simply not be there for her through Luna’s own pregnancy, when she needed all the support she could get.

What type of Gryffindor, no, what type of friend was she?

Yet, Luna continues to forgive her. Continues to come over whenever she tearfully calls after Harry storms out. That’s not fair though, Harry never storms. He leaves quietly to cool down after they argue. He would never slam the door, never yell. Not with James in the house; the child might not yet be a year old, but Harry didn’t want any of his kids to have memories of a horrible childhood like he did.

Except apparently Fred, Merlin, yet another thing Luna always seems to be able to overlook when comforting her and listening to her lamentation about Harry - is Harry.

Harry was just being a right arse when it came to dealing with Fred. She knew him. She knew he was trying so hard to make it right with _everyone_ , but he should have realized by now that the world didn’t work that way. That when you tried to make everyone happy, you made no one so.

Luna squeezed her hand and she glanced over at the blonde in the corner of her eye, “Talk to him,” she repeated, “You deserve to be happy. You both do.”

Ginny sighed and looked down at her stomach. She rubbed it in contemplation, she would talk to Harry. Not just for herself, but for her children as well.

 

***

So, when the twins were born (and _of course_ it was twins, she _was_ a Weasley after all) they named the boy Albus Severus and the girl, well she _had_ to name the girl, Lily Luna.


	20. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Luna had learned the hard lesson of acceptance at age 9. Seeing your mother die in an experiment for the Department of Mysteries that she was doing at her home workshop will do that to a little girl.

Accepting that not everyone held the same beliefs in magic as you (could see the same things with their eyes, with their mind, with their dreams) and would take your things to prove that point was easy.

Accepting that your life was now war; was now being in a secret army within your own school, being kidnapped off a train, kept in a dungeon away from sunshine and life was……..harder but it felt right. It always felt right.

Accepting that you were giving birth at 17 was the easiest most natural thing in the world. That your friend. Your _friend_ who had got you pregnant with this wonderful piece of joy was keeping his distance was much harder. And that never stopped feeling wrong.

Accepting Draco Malfoy back into your life after he turned up at your door one day hand in hand with a little orphan changeling boy, looking desperately in need of help. That. That, took a moment to consider. A moment to remember both the long days without light or food and the note that came with the only bouquet of flowers you received when you gave birth to Winifred. No message and no real signature, only a stylized D with a dragon through it.

The past or the future.

She let Draco and Teddy inside for tea and left her memories of Malfoy manor on the doorstep.


	21. Trick of the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

It was funny how they only got their marriage to start working when they stopped trying so hard to be a couple, and instead became partners working together. When they remembered again that they were friends. That they always worked better as friends.

Now it was so much lighter in the house, so much less tense and Harry knows this has to be better for their children than when they were attempting to force their relationship. They actually smile at each other; actually talk now – not just the stilted “conversations” that were tightly controlled cover for yelling.

When they go over to the Burrow now, they hold hands easily and grin knowingly while Molly talks. It no longer feels like a trap that they’re suffocating under - all the stares and expectation. It feels like a big game, a trick. But it’s them playing it against the world, not against themselves and each other anymore.

And it’s all thanks to Luna.

Luna who is not only raising his first born child, but apparently is fixing his family, too. Has been supporting his wife through her relationship with him since its infancy, if he got the conversation with Ginny right.

Shit, as if he needed _another_ thing to feel guilty and indebted towards Luna for, a dark part of his mind whispers.

An image springs to mind of a little girl with wavy brown hair and a surprised and happy look on her face screaming, “Bio-Dad!” and raising her little arms for him to pick her up. Luna looking hopeful and uncertain slightly off to the side.

He can’t breathe for a moment and his chest feels constricted as if he’s been hit by a curse.

 _Go see her, you idiot_ (The voice sounds suspiciously like Seamus Finnigan).

Harry bit his lip. No, he was finally starting to do better with his own family: Ginny, James and the new twins - Albus Severus and Lily Luna (God, _Luna_ ). He should just concentrate on that. He could go see Fred when everything was on a bit steadier ground.

Yes. Yes, that made sense.

He tried to ignore the voice with the slight brogue that whispered, _Coward_.


	22. A Vague Disclaimer is Nobody's Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: The title is a quote said by Willow on the tv show Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

McGonagall surveyed the students that had come back the first year after Voldemort’s defeat. There weren’t many of the older students because of the Ministry’s offer and for this year they were going to have to combine the 6th and 7th year into one class. Still though, she was quite pleased with the turnout. That so many would deign to send their children here was a vote of confidence that they trusted her staff and her to keep them safe despite what had happened.

She promised herself that she would fight to her last breath not to break that trust. She was Headmistress of Hogwarts - these were her kids. It made her feel happy to see them dining so calmly on breakfast where the final confrontation of the Battle of Hogwarts had gone down.

She had already given her speech last night after the Sorting Ceremony and was happy that the Hat had once again kept its tongue (figuratively of course) in front of young ears. Minerva was more nervous now on behalf of her new staff; it was their first day of teaching and she remembered how daunting that could be. She wished them luck.

***

 

Combined 6th & 7th Years – Professor Zabini

 

Blaise walked into the classroom and his robes swept behind him. He heard a few girls swoon and he frowned. He stopped abruptly once he reached the front of the classroom. “Alright, yeah, no. This is not going to work.”

“Look,” he sighed, “I know I’m very attractive, but there will be no student teacher relationships, so get that nonsense out of your head right now.”

Stunned silence and wide eye met his pronouncement but he continued, “That stuff might seem like a good idea in porn, oh I’m sorry,” he made finger quotes in the air “”erotica” but I have standards and me” he pointed to himself “plus you” he gestured to the whole class “equals gew.”

He frowned when everyone continued to simply stare at him in shock or mortification, “Why aren’t you writing this down? This is a class, people! I’m not saying these things for my benefit! And hey, that even rhymed – “me plus you equals gew”.”

The Slytherins and Gryffindors all quickly scrambled for their books, ink, and quills.

“Got that? Good.” He clapped his hands together, “Now we can get to actually learning something. Defense Against the Dark Arts……”

 

5th Years – Professor Creevey

 

He sat cross legged on his desk, the fact that he refused to wear a robe made him seem even smaller. In his hands he held a legal pad with a few notes on it. He glanced over it one last time before setting it down and staring at the class that was the same age as he was.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” he began in a quiet even tone.

“That is a quote from a Muggle science fiction writer whose name was Arthur C. Clarke.” His eyes swept around, but they were all listening.

“It’s true, and in many ways Muggle technology has become so advanced as to outstrip your magic. It mainly happened out of necessity. Muggles didn’t have magic like wizards and witches so they found ways to get around it. Cooking, cleaning, building, farming, communicating, traveling, medicine,” he paused meaningfully, “war. Muggles found ways to do it all without magic.”

“And now they’ve advanced those ways to a point where their technology is largely indistinguishable from magic.”

He smiled, “ _That_ is what we are going to learn about in this class.”

 

2nd Years - Professor Longbottom

 

“And one of the many plants we will be learning about this year is the mandrake. Can anyone tell me anything about the mandrake?” Neville asked gesturing to the potted and therefore quiet plant in question.

A boy with thick sandy hair raised his hand excitedly, “Yes, Mr. Caan?”

“Did you really cut off a snake’s head with the sword of Gryffindor?” he asked. The rest of the class perked up.

Neville sighed. “Yes,” he said shortly. “But what we’re talking about is mandrakes.”

“Mandrakes aren’t cool,” someone near the back muttered.

“Really?” Neville asked. “Do you know what we threw on the Death Eaters’ heads when they were trying to storm Hogwarts?”

He smirked, “Mandrakes. Does anyone know the other name for mandrakes? Ms. Perrette?”

 

1st Years - Professor Weasley

 

Percy stared at the class. They stared right back at him.

Eleven. They were eleven years old. But all so tiny.

How could they come back here and feel safe. He could barely walk these halls without seeing ghosts. (Not actual ghosts of course. Well he could see them, naturally, there were still plenty of ghosts residing at Hogwarts. But he meant memories. Memories of the dead.)

If they could be brave enough to sit in his class, he would learn to be brave enough to teach them.

He just had to open his mouth.

Percy cleared his throat awkwardly, “Charms………..”

 

3rd Years – Professor Patil

 

“Transfiguration, as you should all know, is the art of changing the form or appearance of an object,” Professor Patil began solemnly from the front of the class.

Suddenly the door slammed open causing the class to jump in surprise, the woman who rushed in didn’t even notice.

“Oh thank you so much Padma, you’re such a dear. I had to take that Floo, you know how Mother gets.”

Padma smiled at her twin fondly, “You can tell me about it later, just be happy this was my free period.” Then she calmly walked out of the classroom.

Pravati took a deep breath and centered herself before turning to the dumbfounded class with a mischievous smile, “With magic, especially Transfigurations, you should learn to always question what your eyes tell you.”

 

3rd Years & Above – Professor Wood

 

Oliver smiled brightly, “I am Professor Wood,” the class snickered and his smile twitched but he soldiered on, “and I will be teaching Arithmancy.”

A girl near the front raised her hand and he pointed at her, “I thought you were all about Quidditch, why aren’t you teachin’ flyin’ or somethin’?”

“Madam Hooch is the flying instructor here at Hogwarts,” he tried to defer, “Moving on, arithmancy…”

Another hand raised and he pointed to the Drakken boy with a sinking feeling .

“But I remember when you were captain! You were absolutely insane about Quidditch –“ the 6th year waved his arm in emphasis.

He sighed and dropped the smile completely, “Yes, I loved Quidditch. I still love Quidditch. One of the reasons why was because I was good at it. You want to know why?” His eyes became wide and he became more animated, “Because it was all about trying to predict what was going to happen: where the other’s team chaser might go, when the bludgers will head your way, where the snitch might pop up. All arithmancy. And if I was ever good at Quidditch – well I’m wonderful at arithmancy.” The smile was much more genuine now and the class was quiet.

“This year we will be doing a number chart to….”

 

3rd Year - Professor Patil

 

Padma serenely weaved her way through the cauldrons stopping to correct a few students on her way to the girl in pig tails whose hand was raised.

“Yes, Amy?” she asked calmly.

“My scales are unbalanced and I don’t remember how to fix them, Professor Patil,” the girl whispered nervously.

She brought out her wand and casually fixed the instrument, but the girl was still glancing at her out of the corner of her eye and biting her lip.

“What is it, Amy?” she said calmly while turning her head to keep an eye on everyone else’s potions.

“It – it’s just if we’re calling you Professor Patil and and your sister Professor Patil won’t everyone be confused?” she looked down as if she might have offended her.

She turned back around and looked down at the nervous girl. Was she ever that young? It was hard to remember.

“You can call me Professor Padma,” she said and headed off to another student with a problem.

Behind her she heard Amy whisper, “Alright, Professor Padma,” and she smiled.

 

3rd Years & Above – Professor Bones

 

Susan slowly and carefully drew the “eihwaz” rune on her board before turning to face her disappointingly small class.

“Why are runes important?” she asked.

The class was silent. “No one?”

She pointed back to the board. “That is the rune for defense. Before our spells, before the type of magic we use today, our ancestors used those to defend themselves.”

“They drew them, they carved them, they sewed them in to their garments,” she said counting off on her fingers. “And today people might think this is just a neat facet of our history. Something interesting to study. But I ask you - why are runes suddenly obsolete? Why should they suddenly stop working?”

Susan smiled sadly, “I ask a lot of people this, but two actually took me seriously. Two people I never actually expected to have a serious conversation with.”

She went behind her desk and opened a drawer bringing out a few items. “This is a ‘Shield Hat’, a ‘Shield Cloak’, and a pair of ‘Shield Gloves’ from the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes defense line worn by Aurors in the Ministry of Magic. “Eihwaz” ”, she pointed again at the board, “is sewn into the fabric of all of them.”

“The old ways still work,” she said to an entranced few, “you just have to find a way.”

 

4th Years – Professor Bulstrode

 

The class filled in and sat down. Millicent gave them a moment before looking up from her desk, she narrowed her eyes and the whispers died instantly.

“Like all of you I took this class with Professor Binns.” She crossed her arms and sneered, “For years, we have been getting away with having History of Magic taught by a ghost. It has been a class to sleep through, to gossip with friends through, to make up other homework in. We have been ignoring our own history, our past.”

“And we have been repeating it.” She uncrossed her arms and stood up making eye contact with everyone, “I hope to rectify that starting now.”


	23. The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title is a book I've always been fond of by Carson McCullers.

“Screwdriver,” Fred chirped putting out her hand without looking up. The appropriate tool was placed in it and she tightened a few things, then stood up brushing off her sundress.

Her assistant stood up as well and they both looked down at her creation.

“So, do these Muggle things really make toast?” Arthur Weasley asked excitedly.

Fred looked up at him, “Well usually, but I tinkered with this one a bit and now it’s a spring-loaded decapitation device.”

He did a double take between the contraption and the little girl.

“You see I was thinkin’”, Fred continued in her serious, excited way, “was what would happen in a fight if your arms were cut off? You couldn’t use a wand or nothin’ then. If you had something like this,” she gestured back to the toaster of death, “you could at least take the other person down before you passed out and Aunt Hannah or someone came to get ya.”

When he still look worried Fred patted him on the arm, “Don’t worry Grandpa Arthur, this one’s just a prototype. Mommy blunted the edges on the blade inside so it’s not so dangerous.” She considered for a moment, “Really, I guess it would be more of a spring-loaded catapult than a decapitation device how it is right now.”

The first time she remembers meeting Grandpa Arthur was when she was five. Her hands were covered with finger paint and she was trying to be patient and wait for Mommy to clean off the table before she helped Fred get cleaned up.

Then symbols started dancing in her head. Things Fred didn’t know the meaning of but knew they meant power. Knew they were connected to the other Winifred.

 _Didn’t know_ she was drawing them with her paint covered fingers on the blender until they started glowing. _Blue._

She started crying and her Mommy was there instantly but then the symbols seeped into the blender. It pulled itself away from the wall and off the counter and Mommy quickly picked her up and twisted her away from danger on her hip.

The enchanted blender was surprisingly fast and once Mommy made sure she was alright and they got themselves together it had somehow escaped out an open window. With a sigh Mommy had gone to the Floo and made a call. Within minutes he was there. After he caught the escaped appliance (and exclaimed over its many uses) he had stayed for a while and played with her.

Then he kept coming back to check up on his “favorite little trouble maker”.

But there was something they never talked about. Someone. Fred bit her lip uncertainly.

“Grandpa Arthur? Can I ask you something?” she said turning to him hesitantly.

“Of course Fredkins, you can ask me anything,” he replied instantly with a large easy smile.

“Why does Grandma Molly hate me?” she blurted out.

Grandpa Arthur looked stunned, but this was something that had been bothering Fred for a while, eating away in her mind over caught bits of conversations and significant looks over her head that she didn’t know the complete stories for but the feelings. Fred knew those feelings.

 _Disappointment. Anger. Hope. Frustration._

Yes, Fred recognized those feelings.

The still mostly redheaded balding man crouched down to her level with a sigh, “You see Sunbeam, Grandma Molly doesn’t hate you. She isn’t trying to be mean to you.”

“Yes she is!” Fred interrupted angrily pushing her glasses back up, “She makes Mommy cry sometimes and makes Uncle George angry and….”

He continued in a gentle tone, “Grandma Molly has had a lot of people she loves very very much die and now she wants her family to be happy at any cost. And,” he gave a rueful smile, “she has a very specific idea on how they _should_ be happy.”

Fred thought about this very carefully. “But what about me and Mommy,” she asked “Aren’t _we_ family?”

He pulled her into a hug letting them both fall over into a sitting position on the floor. Fred loved hugs from Grandpa Arthur they always reminded her of her dreams of the other Winifred’s Daddy.

“I love you very much and I love your mother like she was another daughter of mine.” He sighed. “I also love Grandma Molly and we have been together a long long time.”

“Eons?” Fred asked tilting her head.

He grinned, “Almost. One thing I’ve learned though is that when Grandma Molly gets her mind on something and she thinks she’s right, she can be a very _very_ stubborn woman.”

Fred sat considering his words and soaking in the sense of familiarity and comfort that came with his presence.

“But you’ll still come and be my assistant on my inventions, right, Grandpa Arthur?” she asked apprehensively.

He squeezed her tighter, “Of course, Fred, I have to keep an eye on my favorite little trouble maker after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 4: The spring loaded toaster is from an episode of Angel called Fredless.


	24. Not A Sign of the Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

The rhythm wasn’t the same. They didn’t finish each others' sentences and sometimes they came to vastly different conclusions, but it worked.

And what for George had began as a logically sound new hire turned into a good working relationship and suddenly before he knew it, somehow Draco Malfoy was his _friend_.

A _Malfoy_ was working for a _Weasley_ and they were _friends_.

George would say this was a sign of the apocalypse, but since all that shit went down not _that_ long ago (never long enough to forget) they were probably due for a bit of quiet time until the next cataclysmic event. He hoped anyway.

It was odd though, especially at first, to be in the workshop doing experiments with someone other than Fred.

But Fred was dead and he had accepted that. It wasn’t easy, it’s not that it didn’t hurt – but it was like the War in a way. You just had to keep going sometimes, keep making new things for the joke shop, keep living even when daily life is shit. Because the alternative was to just lay down and die.

And that was just stupid.

Slowly, because of Lee, Luna, and little Fred, it became less of going through the motions and more of actually living his life a life he actually, surprisingly, _enjoyed_. Was able to enjoy, without Fred.

And that was ok.

It was ok to be happy and laugh when Fred was just a memory now. It was better even when the alternative was to carry his twin like a weight around his neck dragging him out of his daily life ( _teasing Percy out of his mental tangents, little Fred’s joyous laughter when he tossed her in the air, curling against Lee’s warm comforting presence at the end of the day_ ), swamping him with the past ( _the shared triumph of leaving school and the tyrannical Umbridge with a “bang” – how fitting he went out with one. The shared looks. The shared thoughts. The shared laughter. How could he not know his twin was dead until he saw Percy’s guilty helpless look and saw his mother crying – not believe it until he saw the body?_ ) whenever he tried to be in the present.

But, although it was the reason (or one of the reasons) he hired Draco. To bring him in the backrooms of the shop that only the two of them had ever really went into felt….off in the beginning. To look up from a worktable and see Draco, not Fred, working over a cauldron was startling.

So, to compensate for his uneasiness, he started talking. And to his surprise Draco, haltingly at first, responded. As the discomfort in the room wore off, the talking turned more into easy bantering. Which soon shifted into brainstorming ideas for the shop.

Draco, had a lot of unexpected ideas to extend the Defense Line. George figured having a direct view of the “Dark Arts” gave you a good idea of the “Defense Against” aspect of it.

He seemed to flounder a bit though when it came to the “joke” part of the joke shop. George dropped the subject for a bit instead gossiping absentmindedly about people from school as they both worked on keeping the shop up to stock.

“Ugh, Longbottom and Abbot of course they’d get together,” Draco said scrunching up his face, “They’re so sickeningly sweet they have rainbows exploding from them everywhere they go.”

George looked up from where he was using his wand to magically set a needle to sew runes in a specific pattern with potion treated thread into the first of a line of cloaks.

“We can work with that,” he said biting his lip in consideration.

“What?” Draco asked and he stopped chopping the ingredients for the next mass batch of Canary Creams, utterly lost.

“Maybe not exploding rainbows, people get incredibly upset when their children eat anything that seems to promise it will explode. We had to put explicit “DO NOT EAT” signs on the boxes for our fireworks…….,” he scratched his chin, “Hmmm…..”

“Perhaps, perhaps it could be puking rainbows?” Draco asked tentatively, finally catching on.

“Yes, “Puking Rainbows”.” George said snapping his fingers with a grin, “I think perhaps that will work out just fine.”

“Probably sell really well around Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day, too.” Draco added, getting in the spirit of things.

George laughed imagining all the lovesick couples being slipped the candies with the regular Valentine’s Day chocolate and spontaneously puking rainbows whenever they tried to get all mushy. Not real puke - that would just be disgusting. But a triggered charm where an array of colors - and….and sparkles! - came out of your mouth.

Yes. George looked over and saw Draco was laughing too as he went back to work. Yes, he could still do this without Fred.


	25. Devil's Snare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

  
When she had the idea, it was just an idea. Pansy hadn’t realized that it would be work. Hard work.

Hard work that she would _love_.

First came choosing an empty building right on the corner where Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley came together. Where respectable met….something a bit darker, a bit _less_ respectable.

It suited her sensibilities quiet well.

Then she traveled a while for inspiration. She kept her eyes open and figured out exactly what she liked – not just what she was _supposed_ to like. Magical. Muggle. It didn’t matter to her, once she laid eyes on it and it called to her, it was _hers_.

Sleek, dark, sexy – _Viperidae_.

So she met with sellers and made contacts all over the world. And doing this on her own. For herself - it, it felt freeing.

The snag in her wonderful plan came when she brought all of her lovely, wicked purchases back to her clean but empty shop and realized that she had no idea how to sell them.

Marketing. That was a problem.

Pansy had never been good at making people like her. Slytherins either insulted or sucked up to you depending on if they needed something. It was their way. Did she even know anyone (that would still talk to her) that was good at projecting an image, good at making people do what they wanted them to without them knowing it?

Oh! Oh, why hadn’t she thought of that before? It was so horribly perfect. Pansy smiled devilishly.

She hoped that Narcissa was in the mood for a new “hobby”.


	26. Through A Glass, Darkly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Fred is scared for her Granddaddy.

(Mommy tells her that during the War he was taken by bad people to a very bad place called Azkaban)

She hates visiting him. She hates the wing of the hospital where he is kept with all of the long term spell damaged people.

(Sometimes Uncle Neville comes too and visits his parents. They were hurt by bad people, too.)

She hates that he mumbles to himself and writes on the wall. She hates that that seems familiar, makes her fingers twitch.

(Mommy and Uncle Neville say that it is still important to visit them. To show them that we love them.)

She hates that coming here makes her feel small, makes her imagine the walls turning into a cave - her being alone trapped by herself with no Mommy.

(Mommy says sometimes it’s hard to love people but that just makes it all the more important.)

Fred is scared for her Granddaddy because when she looks at him she doesn’t think he is ever going to hear _the click_ that makes everything make sense again. She doesn’t think he’s even listening for it.

(And Fred keeps coming with her Mommy even though she hates it. Even though he never recognizes their presence. Because the bad men made him believe Mommy was dead and at that time Fred hadn’t even been born yet. But they keep coming – because he is family and they will always _always_ love him.)


	27. Hannah In Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

The hallway is dark as Hannah runs down it. And this time there is no chaos: no screaming, no crying, no explosions, no blast of spells.

And that is so much worse.

Everything is quiet and out of the corner of her eyes she can see bodies in the shadows. So many bodies - all of them draped with black cloth making it hard now to distinguish friend or foe. She only knows in her heart which ones are her comrades (the people she spent a lifetime in one room with, the people she has patched up multiple times with her own hands, the people she has whispered hopes and fears to in the night - the people who are her family) because…..because they are the _smaller_ draped corpses.

But she can’t stop running. Can’t admit that she wasn’t strong enough. Wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t _good enough_ to save her family this time. ( _Again._ )

That she will be the last one left surrounded by death.

Hannah wakes with a harsh deep breath in a hammock - sunlight filtered through green. Neville is spooned behind her so close that she can feel his heartbeat through their skin. His hand is on her stomach over their baby that is growing inside her, the metal from his plain wedding band a smooth contrast to his calluses. An absolute jungle worth of carefully controlled chaos growing as far as she can see.

 _Life. Life. Life._ She chants purposefully in her mind, dispelling her nightmare.

 _This_ is what magic is. _This_ is what magic should _always_ be about.

Hannah loves being able to wake up like this, but she worries that as the months progress it will be hard to get in and out of a hammock while heavily pregnant. Then again, she bites her lip, it took them a while to figure out how to make love in their hammock without falling out as well, but it was quiet an enjoyable learning experience.

If all else fails, they can always move to one of the sofas they have set up in another of their Greenhouse’s alcoves for the last few months of her pregnancy.

Greenhouse 8, the one closest to the Forbidden Forest, had been closed off to students for years. Occasionally Professor Sprout would tend to parts of it, but, for the most part, it had become an overgrown forest, in and of itself, that pressed against the walls of the glass threatening to explode outwards.

Neville was entranced by it and would help the Professor whenever she went there. Eventually, he asked permission to tend to the greenhouse himself. Sprout, who thought he could do no wrong, of course agreed.

The thing about magical plants (and all plants really), especially ones that have been left to their own devices near large fonts of magical energy is that they take on a bit of personality. You can’t just hack and saw at them – push them around and expect them to do what you want. You have to have to have a firm but gentle touch. A deep well of patience and understanding.

And her Neville could make plants _purr_.

He worked on the Greenhouse in his free time all through his school years. That was _his_ place away from the crazy. _His_ calm.

The war put his project on hold. But while they were holed up for long hours in the Room of Requirement he would tell her about it sometimes - this marvelous place he was creating. It sounded like a dream to Hannah.

When McGonagall gave him the job (There was never any doubt in Hannah’s mind that she would have. There wasn’t anyone else so perfectly qualified.) and he nervously took her hand, so much more like the little boy he had been then the man he had become, and showed it to her Hannah was amazed.

It _was_ a dream. It was so much better then she had imagined it.

Tall trees and creeping ivy blocked out any possible peeping eyes. Pathways bordered with a cacophony of plants she couldn’t even begin to name led to alcoves holding chairs, sofas, or hammocks. All lit by the soft glow of lanterns.

Neville was saying that everything had started to overgrow a bit again because he hadn’t had a chance to tend it lately, but, she interrupted him.

“No, no Neville,” she said grabbing both of his hands, calming _him_ for once, “it’s perfect,” she looked around again her eyes wide with wonder, “its _life_.”


	28. Ceases To Have Meaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

She was watching him.

The child of the girl that they had kept in the dungeons when _He_ was here.

Lucius knew that his son was probably searching all over the house for her, frantic with worry. The thought amused him somewhat. Draco had most likely only brought her here at all as a short stop on his way somewhere else. But she was not bothering him, so he would let her sit in the corner of his study and stare as he made his latest book.

Lucius found bookmaking soothing in a way his life had never been.

The first he had made, in the way his grandfather had taught him, on a whim during the long hours of shock after the hearings. It was meant to be a journal, a place to write it all down - figure out where everything went wrong.

He had dipped his quill in ink and started to write his name and date at the top but once he wrote Malfoy, he stopped. As he watched the ink soak into the parchment he couldn’t help but think that it somehow sullied the page. Sullied the book.

 _Maybe that is where everything went wrong some part of him whispered._

Angrily he kept writing his family’s name. Again and again on every inch of every page. Until it ceased to feel like a name, until it ceased to feel like a word, or even a jumble of letters. Until “Malfoy” ceased to mean anything at all.

Then he burned the book.

Watching flames curl the pages, not taking his eyes off the blaze until all that was left was a smoldering binding. It was oddly therapeutic.

The next day he made another book. This time he left it empty.

It seemed better that way.


	29. Not A Bloody Therapist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“Did you sleep with him?” Dean asked laconically without looking up from his sketch pad.

“What? No.” Seamus said startled eyes darting to where Harry was sitting at the far end of the bar, “He’s married to Ginny and has four kids why would you even ask that?”

“He’s still hanging around here when you’re about to close down and he keeps giving you these weird ass looks,” Dean answered calmly pencil still moving steadily across the paper.

Seamus sighed, “I told him off for not seeing his kid the other day.”

His friend raised an eyebrow, asking for clarification, without raising his eyes from his drawing.

“His kid with Luna,” he explained.

Both eyebrows raised and his pencil actually stopped as Dean looked up intrigued, “Really now.”

“See,” Seamus teased, “this is what happens when you don’t keep up on the Wizarding World. They have all the best gossip.” He waved his hand with the towel in it at him, “I’ll tell you all the details later. Anyway, I kinda got in his face about it and now he keeps hanging around looking guilty.” He paused to consider for a moment, “I think he wants me to yell at him again.”

Dean snorted, “Potter is a masochist? Why am I a somehow not surprised.”

Seamus laughed and glanced over again. When Harry caught his eye he quickly looked down again.

“I’m not going to do it though. It really should be his own decision to open his eyes to the idiocy he’s existing right now and take responsibility for his own life,” Seamus scowled.

Dean stared.

“What?,” Seamus asked.

“You’re really getting into the whole wise-sage-bartender shtick aren’t you,” he smirked.

“Shut up,” was his brilliant comeback, and with a grin Seamus threw his towel at the laughing man’s face and made his way to Potter’s side of the bar.

“Alright, Harry, I’m closing up,” he said as cheerily as possible.

“Molly took her grandbabies for the night and Ginny’s going over to a friend’s house to relax. Luna. Because Luna and Ginny are still best friends. Ginny is going to be over at Luna’s house. Where Fred is,” Harry blurted out as quickly as possible, so that some of his words jumbled over each other, as if he had been waiting around all night until he couldn’t hold it back, and that all just erupted out of him. When he was done he stared at Seamus expectantly.

Seamus closed his eyes briefly and prayed to a God his grandmother on his father’s side believed in for patience.

Some days he has to go check outside his bar himself to see if Dean hasn’t created an add on to his sign just to screw with him. That it doesn’t say “Irish Pub & Therapist – Walk Ins Welcome” now. Because seriously, the Wizarding World needs some mental health services other then bars.

Harry is a shining example of this. That boy had a shitty childhood and all the pressure of the world on him starting at age 11. He would say that it’s no wonder he’s messed up but Seamus _does not_ believe in giving people free outs like that. If he really wanted to Harry could stand up and go see his kid right now. There is no one physically stopping him (his wife is even bloody there!). But Harry would probably be better with someone to physically or magically fight. It seems that it’s dealing with actual life not the epic battles that trips up “The Chosen One.”

When he opens his eyes again Harry’s stupidly green ones are still locked on his.

“Look Harry,” he says running his hand through his hair, “I told you my opinion last time we had this little chat. That hasn’t changed. I’m not going to keep repeating myself and I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“It’s not that,” Harry looked down, “it’s just. I have no one else to talk to about all of this.”

“What about Ron and Hermione?” Seamus suggested a bit desperately.

“Ron and Hermione became Ron and Hermione,” he said with a sad grin. “She’s busy with taking care of their own kids and writing the new age of Hogwarts textbooks, and Ron finally landed his dream job of Assistant Quidditch Coach for the Chudley Cannons. And anyway,” he scrunched up his nose, “this involves his little sister.”

Seamus suddenly came to a startling discovery. All the creepy stalker-esque staring wasn’t Harry trying to get him to fulfill a deep seated pathological need to be yelled at (probably) – he was trying to make friends.

He was just really _really_ bad at it.

Inwardly he still dragged his feet before he said anything, because Harry seemed to be a complete ass-hat these days.

An ass-hat that was sitting around his pub and looking at him like a lost puppy. Damn.

With a martyred sigh he said, “Harry, Dean and I are going to see a new movie in Muggle London.”

“Alright,” the other man said dejectedly getting up to leave.

“Wanna come?” he asked.

Harry’s head shot up, “Really? Sure.”

He looked so surprised by the offer. Seamus felt something twist inside him. Damn. He really was an ass-hat puppy (and bloody hell, that didn’t make any sense).

“You know,” Dean murmured to him as they finished closing up and shuffled outside, “if you wanted to pick up a stray you could have just taken one of my sister’s cats.”

“Shut up,” Seamus said with a grin, shoving his cackling, stupidly tall friend into the door jamb.


	30. In Search of a Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

She’s been playing music incessantly in the house since Hermione told her that she had seen a study that it made children smarter.

Which was the second stupidest thing he’s ever heard (the first, well - can he somehow summarize _both_ wars) and he doubts Hermione meant the Weird Sisters, bagpipes, Muggle rock music, and some things he just doesn’t want to try to identify. And anyway, Fred is already the smartest child he has ever seen and Teddy doesn’t seem to be a dullard by any estimation.

The only comment he makes is at least they don’t have to dance to it. And then she gives him that sly sidelong glance he has learned to recognize through her usual dreamy air and asks “Why, Draco, don’t you know how to dance?”

That sounds like a challenge to him. One of his biggest faults has always been that he has never been able to back down from a challenge. Before his mind has caught up with his body, he has pulled her out of her chair and is spinning her around the room.

The childrens’ eyes are huge and their smiles are wider as he waltzes Luna around the living room sidestepping toys, kid-sized tools, and a glowing-eyed hare. The music has changed to a tribal drum beat that doesn’t match their dancing whatsoever.

He dips her low suddenly and Luna goes along with it easily, trusting him to hold her. A laugh springs from her lips: loud, free, unabashed and happy.

So utterly _Luna_ , he thinks with a grin.

His grin suddenly freezes on his face as the thought registers and he carefully eases Luna back into standing position ending the dance casually without giving away what’s going on inside his head.

He watches as Luna grabs Fred’s hand and spins her around as Teddy jumps around them waving his arms, his hair changing color in waves as well. Draco can’t help the feeling of utter contentment that seeps into him at the picture.

Oh Merlin, he blames his mother for this.


	31. Floating Boats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“This is amazing!” Ginny said running off the field during their break. She was grinning wildly and wiping sweat out of her eyes. This was the most fun she had had in years. “How come we didn’t have anything like this at Hogwarts?”

After she had practically had Irish triplets – Albus and Lily Luna born eleven months after James (damn fertile Weasley genes) it had gotten a little crazy. Three children under a year old in the house at one time was tiring to the extreme. Harry was a life saver. She knew that he was extra attentive out of guilt for not seeing his other child but she couldn’t turn away help in caring for their children either.

Since they had had their talk before the twins were born things were much better with them but he still didn’t talk to her about Luna. And after a while it became easier not to push - she was always so busy with the kids anyway. She had somehow become a full time stay at home mom and just hoped that meant she wasn’t becoming _her mother_. Time went by much quicker the she expected it to and before she knew it first James, then Albus and Lil'Luna were old enough for Reception Level at the Primary school near their home (it was a shame they lived so far from the others).

And suddenly, suddenly she had free time on her hands. Not a lot. She still had the little devils to take care of. But still. Some time for _her_. The thought was extraordinary.

She found out about the 'GG Sports Club' from George. It was run by two of his best friends from the Hogwarts Quidditch team. Every 3 months they would choose a Muggle sport and have a sign-up sheet where those interested would pay an equipment fee and then come three times a week to learn about and then play the game.

She signed up and it was one of the best choices she had ever made. Ginny loved her kids but she hadn’t realized how claustrophobic she had been feeling by her own _house_ until she had a chance to really run full out again. She was a girl who grew up rough and tumble with six brothers. She loved the burn of stretched muscles, the feeling of the air rushing past you, the adrenaline of a good win. She had missed this.

Katie laughed at her enthusiasm, “Probably because it’s a purely Muggle sport, that has no flying, and doesn’t contain any magic whatsoever.”

“Not to mention,” said Angelina coming up to bump shoulder’s with her co-owner, “its seen as largely a womens’ sport.”

“Don’t tell Theo that, he seems to have taken quite a shine to field hockey,” Ginny said and the three giggled seeing the tall serious former Slytherin off to the side twirling the curved field hockey stick like a cane.

“I think he’s taken more of a shine to Angie,” Katie teased looping her arm through the other womans’ playfully.

“Too bad he’s not my type,” Angelina said with a laugh.

“What, Slytherin?” Ginny asked.

Katie and Angelina froze for a moment their eyes darting to each other. Then Angelina tilted her head over until their heads bumped into each other and the sweaty hair at their temples mingled. Black as midnight and honey blonde.

“Not quite,” Angelina said in a serious voice.

“Oh,” Ginny said flushing slightly. She knew George and Lee, but that had kind of always been there. This felt closer more direct.

“We just like our stereotypes,” Katie teased gently.

Angelina pushed their joined elbows into the other womans' side, "Not helping."

Ginny giggled and felt something click for her. Felt herself come to decision, “Hey, whatever floats your boat.”

The two relaxed again.

Angelina broke away with a vicious smile, “Alright,” she yelled loud enough so the whole field could hear. “Breaks over everyone.” Katie was one step behind her making sure everyone was in position yelling, “Move it people, we don't have all day!”

Ginny watched them. Love was great wherever you found it. She was not going to be her mother. She was not going to put conditions on that.

“Come on, Gin!” screamed Katie. And with a grin Ginny joined them on the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: Just in case you didn't catch it, GG Sports Club = Gryffindor Girls Sports Club  
> On a completely different note, I have long maintained that "Floating Boats" would be a great name for a band. Just a thought.


	32. Have More Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Narcissa had already heard Pansy was opening a shop of course. She had people in both Diagon and Knockturn Alleyways that kept her abreast on such things.

The proposal the girl came to her with was unexpected, but not unpleasantly so. Other than spending time once a week reconnecting with her dear sister Andromeda (they both agreed without words not to touch the subject of the third Black sister), writing letters to her _friends_ , and motherly tormenting Draco she had nothing to do.

She even spent more than half an hour yesterday watching Lucius watch tea seep. She had changed the herbs he usually used and wanted to see how long it took him to notice the difference in his routine.

She was _bored_.

So, this new hobby had come at a rather nice time. Narcissa even had some ideas floating around her head already. There had been this catalogue she had seen once – one of those without moving pictures.

It was Veronica, Valerie, Vanessa, a V name. Something Muggle and very American that she had been exposed to when she had been traveling overseas. Anyway, the woman had a “Secret”. Although she surely wasn’t hiding anything under any of those garments. It hardly mattered. But that seemed the kind of trashy, sexy - but somehow acceptable to the mass public vibe Pansy had been going for. But hers would be darker of course. Classier, naturally. And very Slytherin.

She could work with that. She could defiantly make others buy that. _Want_ to buy that.

She also wouldn’t mind helping out Pansy. Narcissa had always adored the girl but she had been glad when the Parkinsons had formally requested a dissolving of the marriage agreement between Draco and Pansy. Not because of the public scandal she had caused by trying to throw the “Chosen One” to the Big Bad Wolf that Must Not be Named before he _wanted_ to be eaten. No, Narcissa could handle scandal – the Malfoy name was probably far more tarnished now then the Parkinson one. And anyway, Narcissa used to be a Black, she had made keeping your head held high and still looking down on people throughout scandal an art form long before she married Lucius. She was relieved because she knew the marriage would never have worked out for one simple reason.

Malfoys always prefer blondes.


	33. Warm and Golden Like an Oven That's Wide Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title comes from a lyric of a song by the band Cake.

“Wait, what?,” Ron looked up from his food. He had just got home from an international apparition after a long time away and all he wanted was to eat, sleep, and enjoy his family in the morning when he actually had more brain capacity then the mashed potatoes currently on his fork.

“Feel free to sleep in, in the morning. I’ll take the kids out to the museum with Luna and Draco, so it will be quiet in the house until the afternoon,” Hermione smiled down at him fondly. She touched the side of his face softly before wandering into another part of the kitchen to straighten up while he ate so they could both fall into bed as soon as he was done.

He had the best wife, he thought tilting his head as he watched her. She was smart, gorgeous, and his best friend. How did he get so lucky?

Hermione looked up suddenly, “Eat Ronald, you might be sleeping in but I’m not and I want to get as much rest as possible,” she demanded with narrowed eyes.

He quickly complied with a grin and she turned away again mumbling, “Draco will be no help keeping Teddy from changing his hair, he never is. Maybe I can get him to wear a hat?”

Something in his mind stuttered and he looked up again, sure he had heard wrong.

“Did you just say Draco?” he asked his wife.

“Yes, Ron,” she said distractedly, “I said Draco.”

“Draco Malfoy?” he asked.

Hermione turned to him slowly with a look of trepidation on her face, “Yes, Ron. Draco Malfoy.”

He just stared for a long moment.

“Why is Draco Malfoy going to the museum with our kids?,” he finally asked.

His wife took a long slow breath through her nose that he knew meant she was trying to be patient with him.

“Ron,” she began in a measured voice, “wouldn’t it be better to have this conversation when you’re not sleep deprived and I don’t have to get up and help try to keep four children quiet tomorrow?” she asked.

It probably was because none of this was making sense. He knew the down side to his job was that being away with the team caused him to miss a lot here at home. But apparently he had been missing more then he thought he had. And it would probably be better to talk about this when he was more coherent and Hermione had more time to explain. But. But.

“But, _Malfoy_?” he asked incredulously.

Hermione made an impatient sound in the back of her throat, stomped over to the dinner table, pulled out a chair and sat in front of him.

“Look,” she said taking a deep breath, “Draco takes Teddy Lupin and goes over to Luna’s house every Saturday for “play-dates”,” she made finger quotes in the air and gave him a significant look.

It took him a moment to get her implication, “Woah, your saying Malfoy and Luna? The same Malfoys who were Death Eater and held Luna in there dungeon? Luna, Malfoy, and Fred. Fred!” he exclaimed suddenly, “Harry’s kid! A Malfoy taking care of Harry’s kid,” he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

His wife scowled at him, “They haven’t said anything, but it looks to me like it’s at least headed that way.”

“But Malfoy,” he shook his head.”

“He’s there for her Ron,” Hermione said with a sad smile, “for both her and Fred. Harry isn’t.”

Ron stared for a moment before narrowing his eyes suspiciously, “What got you in the support Draco camp all of a sudden?”

Hermione’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed, “I’ll have you know that everyone deserves a second chance…”, she began haughtily.

“Hermione,” he said staring her down.

She bit her lip and her eyes darted away, “Draco might have allowed me access to his family’s extensive personal libraries.”

Ron’s mind went blank for a minute. His wife had been tempted to the dark side by books. He should have been planning for this day.

“It was very helpful resource when I was writing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts text,” she said justifying her actions.

“I bet it was. Look at what his family has done. They _are_ Dark Arts,” he said waving his fork.

“Ron,” Hermione scolded.

“You can’t discount what they did Hermione. What they did to Luna. What they did to us. What they did to _you_ ,” he said staring her in the eye begging her to understand. He can still remember being trapped with Harry in the dungeon hearing her screams one floor up. Unable to get to her. Helpless. Useless.

“No, we can’t,” she agreed with him. “But you also can’t discount what _Draco_ is doing with his life _now_.”

They held eye contact for a long moment and he felt like understanding hard won from all of their shared experiences flowed between them. They wouldn’t completely agree on this. And that was all right – they had never completely agreed for as long as they had known each other.

“Eat,” she said gently getting up again, “it’s probably gotten cold by now.”

He stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork but muttered, “Ferret-lover,” with a smirk before he popped it into his mouth.

Hermione spun around and glared at him but he could see the smile edging around its corners, “You’re such a child Ronald.”

“Hey,” he said cavalierly, “at least I didn’t slap him.”

They both froze when they heard the hallway door screech open and there was Hugo in his Chudley Cannon footy pajamas, “Mommy hit Fred’s Draco-dragon?” he whispered with wide disbelieving eyes.

Hermione’s glare at him this time was real but as she scooped up their little boy and ushered him off to bed all he could do was mouth incredulously to the empty room:

 _“Draco-dragon?”_


	34. I'm Sick, You're Tired, Let's Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title is a lyric from a song by the band Metric.

“Ginny and I aren’t _together_ together anymore. We’re not getting divorced or anything,” he rushed out, “And we’ve decided we’re not going to because of the kids. We even still sleep in the same bed, so they don’t find out. Just on opposite sides now. And we talk a lot, but we don’t have sex,” Harry sighed gustily and looked down at the beer in his hand and fell back against the sofa. “Bloody hell,” he said running his hand and making his hair stick up even more, “I don’t know why I can’t stop myself from telling you these things.”

Seamus just slanted his eyes over at the guy he had internally dubbed "The Man Who Couldn’t Not Fuck Shit Up" and said blandly, “You do know that therapists usually get paid, Harry.”

The other man snorted and took a pull from his beer.

“Molly would have a cow if we tried to get a divorce anyway, after how hard she pushed for the wedding. I think it’s another one of those things that just “aren’t done” in the Wizarding World,” Harry said morosely swirling the liquid in the bottle around.

Seamus closed his eyes prayed for patience, it was something he seemed to do a lot around Harry.

“Harry,” he carded his fingers through his own hair, “shit, you make this hard. Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do. You have so many people telling you what to fucking think, and I’m not going to be one of them. Just,” he sighed, “just take this as advice, we’re friends by now and this is just advice. Advice that you can take or leave and it has no bearing on whether you’ll be welcome here alright? Got that?”

Harry nodded easily, but Seamus had been careful with his words. Because Harry seemed to have this strange notion that family was like an exclusive club. That he had to follow all the rules very carefully or he would be thrown out. The Dursley’s was a club he hadn’t been allowed into because he wasn’t _normal_. But then the Weasley’s accepted him with open arms. Accepted that he was scrawny, messy-haired, green-eyed, magical - Harry. And he was desperate not to lose that. Even if it meant following the club’s rules that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with. Seamus needed Harry to understand that he wasn’t like that. He never wanted to be someone that simply gave orders and had them carried out, no matter how sugarcoated or well-intentioned they were. The thought left him feeling sick inside.

“Just look,” he sighed. “If you were Harry. Just Harry in a bubble, without any outside influences. No one at _all_ ,” he reiterated. “And you have four kids. All yours, all probably marvelous gorgeous things with uncontrollable hair if their father is any indication,” Harry grinned, “would you treat any one of them differently from the others?”

“No.” he said automatically. Then he gave a start and his eyes widened. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” Seamus said, “that about sums it up.”


	35. Synchronicity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Padma was the twin with tattoos.

This surprised people - the very _very_ few friends who knew the only way her sister and her weren’t identical on the outside that is. She was the responsible one. The calm one. The one who thought things through - and she had.

She had sixteen tattoos on her body.

All easily hidden beneath her clothes. All symmetrical. Even. Balanced. Balance was important to Padma. She got two at a time. Until she got to the end bit, then she got all four on each leg at a clip.

Her twin sat beside her the whole time, not completely understanding why she was doing this but there for her – because that’s how they were.

On her shoulder blades were a mountain and a lotus – the entomology of the names Parvati and Padma, respectively, because her sister always had her back. On the flip side of her body (her chest not her breast, Seamus, her chest) she got a raven on the left and the stylized interlocking letters DA on the right. Where her loyalties lied. Her heart and her mind she often thought.

She had a sun done on her naval over her manipura chakra and a crescent moon curving around the corresponding bump of her spine on her back. Balance.

There was rosemary for remembrance on her right hip bone and chamomile for peace on her left.

Down the outside of her thighs she remembered the dead. It may seem morbid but she saw no reason they should be forgotten and her body was a perfectly willing living monument. A snitch with gold and black wings (the colors of the of which he was so proud to represent) for Cedric. Lemon drops for Dumbledore. A cauldron for Professor Snape (she had great respect for the man who had so many secrets). A black dog for Sirius Black (acquitted much to long after it would do any good). A stack of books and a bar of chocolate for Professor Lupin – it was how she always thought of him. A spiral of colors for Tonks (her hair had stayed dull with sadness when she had patrolled Hogwarts but that was not her true self). A camera for Colin. Red and gold fireworks for Fred.

There were many more people gone that she did not feel she knew well enough to symbolize, but truly, it surprised her some days how few of them were dead. Especially from her group. They weren’t the Order of the Phoenix, they were DA. They never expected to live forever or come out of it all unscathed – they were an army. They went in knowing they could die.

She supposed that was why there were no new ghost in the castle. No one _had_ any unfinished business when they died fighting for what they believed in with full knowledge of the consequences if they should loose.

So Padma awakened every morning, her long hair done in a braid then twirled into a bun at the base of her skull to keep it from falling into potions during her classes, and dressed carefully - her clothes covering her tattoos. The memories inked into her skin. Reminders of the past to keep her grounded. So that if she ever forgot in her head (one of her greatest fears, but they could take _anything_ from you with magic) she could always look – read her own body like she has read so many books – and know who she was. Who she is.

Her students never suspected, would never guess especially that this Professor Patil was hiding such secrets under her robes (although they do think about what is under her robes. They are teenage boys and they are being taught by barely legal _twins_ ). Pravati is the flighty one, the outgoing one – the Gryffindor. And some days they catch each other’s eye and just share a knowing smile, because they are so much more different then they are the same.

But really, they are more the same then they are different.


	36. Trying To Make Your Heart Fit Like A Glove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title is a lyric from a song by Ingrid Michaelson.

It amazed Harry how all of his kids were full people. How full people could come from him.

There was James Sirius who he could already see was going to be a hell raiser: playful and mischievous and from the very beginning being more than a handful for Ginny and him. Taking after both of his names to the fullest. And he hoped that didn’t end up being a negative – he still remembered Severus’ memory from when he was “teaching” him Occulmency. He had stopped seeing his godfather and father through rose-tinted glasses at that point.

Severus. His other little boy Albus Severus. Nothing like his brother he was a nervous little thing - always hanging on to his Daddy’s hand or hiding behind Mommy’s legs when strangers were around. He would much rather sit in your lap and be read to then go outside except when his twin grabbed his hand to show him some extraordinary creature she had found.

His twin - Lily. Merlin, she might have the red hair to match her grandmother namesake but her manner was so eerily similar to that of her middle name that Ginny had already nicknamed her Lil’Luna instead. So much wide-eyed dreamy curiosity, innocence, wonder, joy, and acceptance for _everything_. It made his heart hurt sometimes to see her. Made Harry think of the other Luna and their child.

Winifred Sola Lovegood. Fred.

When he finally pulled his head out of his arse and started trying to see his first child regularly ( _Yes, Seamus, I know. About damn time. I’m an idiot._ ) it was startling to see that she had grown. That she didn’t somehow stand in place and stop existing when he wasn’t there. That all of those things he should be teaching her, experiencing with her like he did his other kids were being done by others. While he had been gone from her life that spot hadn’t remained empty - it had been filled.

He had been replaced.

Laughter filled sleepovers with Uncle George and Lee. Hide and go seek in Uncle Neville and Aunt Hannah’s jungle Greenhouse. Library trips with Aunt Hermione. Tinkering with Grandpa Arthur. Play-dates every week with her _Draco-dragon._

She had a life without him. A good life.

Fred called him Bio-Dad. Not simply Dad or Daddy like his children with Ginny because that was what he had always been to her - her biological father. That was all.

The knowledge made him flush with renewed shame.

But how could he connect with her, this bright laughing child of his whose life was already so full of people who adored her? He didn’t want to force himself in. What _right_ did he have to a part of her life now after how he had acted towards her and Luna?

Could he even _earn_ a place in it again?


	37. Good Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Molly had lived a life surrounded by war.

She wished she hadn’t. She wished she could take all of her family and lock them up in a bubble where they would never be harmed.

It started during the First Wizarding War. Her dear little twin brothers Fabien and Gideon Prewett – not so little at that time - where the ones who wanted the join the Order of the Phoenix and fight. She had followed because, really, who else was going to look after them? (She always had) And Arthur was there, and well….

The War was still going on when she married him. When she first got pregnant. When she had Bill. And Charlie. And Percy.

Maybe, maybe if she kept a close eye on her family. If she kept everything in order then nothing would happen. The War wouldn’t touch them.

Death Eaters murdered her brothers.

She was seven months pregnant. Had three other children and just realized that they weren’t safe. She needed to do whatever she had to, to keep her babies safe.

Then the War was suddenly over because of a baby. Because of Harry Potter, Lily and James son who would be in the same year with her boy Ron. Lily and James who were dead now, attacked like Alice and Frank and her brothers and so _so_ many other who were her friends.

But, she still had Arthur and the children. Still had her family. And the War was over – He Who Must Not Be Named was finally gone. She could breathe again.

Molly had learned her lesson though – her family was _never_ truly safe. She had to keep an eye on them at all times. She always kept busy – spelling the cooking, the cleaning, the mending, always doing something. The clock was wonderful, but it was limited. She had to make sure her family was always where they were meant to be.

When she had her youngest – finally a girl. She was overjoyed. Sure, Ginny wasn’t quite as girly as she expected, but she adored having another female after all the boys. Such a tiny thing thoroughly untainted by the War – she would keep her that way.

But then Ginny’s first year at Hogwarts – her biggest mistake as a parent. Sure she was away at school most of that time but she had come home for holidays. How could she not tell? How could she now know that – that _thing_ was inside her daughter? Controlling her. Defiling her. Eating away at her innocence. At her _life_.

Her baby had nearly died.

She was repeatedly reminded of her failure the summer afterwards when she held her daughter (still so small in her arms) after she woke up screaming from nightmares. Ginny didn’t cry, she didn’t talk – she just shook, her skin cool to the touch.

Molly vowed again that she would protect all of her kids - but especially her youngest. Oh Merlin, she couldn’t let anything _else_ happen to Ginny. She had to make sure her little girl grew up safe and happy.

But of course it was never easy. Because Ginny was in love with Harry Potter, and he was her youngest son Ron’s best friend too. Harry was a dear anyway though, so in need of mothering himself and so easy to welcome into the fold.

Goodness though, was that boy hard to live peacefully around.

War came again and all Molly wanted to do was grab all of her family and hide – keep them safe. But this time it seemed to be centered around Harry and that meant her family was in the thick of it.

And all of her babies were grown up and thrown about the world it felt like. They were so hard to keep track of and the clock – the clock always said “Mortal Peril” these days.

Bill had gotten a job at the bank and met then married the French Veela woman (and he had gotten attacked by the horrible Greyback thing on that dreadful night). Charlie was never home – he was always off in Romania with his dragons. Percy, oh Percy, so confused – working for the Ministry and always fighting with his father – she’s rarely seen Arthur get so angry. Fred and George (his ear shorn off by Death Eaters, why do Death Eaters always have to go after her twins?), her troublesome twins, she was so angry and disappointed when they had left their schooling to go off and start a joke shop but they were doing quite well for themselves – even supplying actual Defense Products now she was told.

Then there was Ron. Her dear youngest boy, always trying to live up to everyone else. He was now trekking along with Harry Potter and, the girl he was in love with, Hermione Granger trying to find ways to destroy the man who had killed so many.

And Ginny, she was forced to send Ginny back to a Hogwarts run by Death Eater under a Ministry decree. A Hogwarts where she knew her Gryffindor girl fought back. Where she knew she got hurt.

How was that protecting them?

When it came down to the Battle of Hogwarts she hadn’t wanted Ginny to fight – she didn’t want any of her children too, but Ginny most of all. She, like all of the other times though got away because her life was surrounded by war, too.

As she should never have forgotten for a moment because then it wouldn’t have come as such a shock. Such an absolute heartbreak to place her head on her son’s chest and not feel it move. Not hear a heartbeat. Why did the Death Eaters always go after her little twins?

Then Bellatrix went for Ginny – it was too much. Way way to far to push her. She would have killed the bitch a hundred times more if she could. For Alice. For Frank. For Neville. For Sirius. For Tonks. For Andromeda. For Fred. For George. For Hermione. For all of her family. It was high time she died.

After Harry defeated Voldemort and they buried Fred – it hurt to see George without his twin, they had always been inseparable – couldn’t even sleep in separate cribs as babies (she was glad he had Lee there - such a good friend). Everyone else, happy it was all over, went into celebration mode.

But she remembered from last time, just because the battle was over didn’t mean the danger to her family was. She had to be careful and smart. The danger could just come in different forms now. She had to protect her family – what was left of it.

When she heard about the situation with Luna she understood. She had thought the girl a bit flighty in the past, but she had always been a good friend to Ginerva.

However, her family came first. She had to keep them safe and happy before she could worry about anything else. Ginny had always wanted to be with Harry since she was young (the only truly girly thing about her really, among all the playing outside in the dirt, was her little girl fantasies of a life with the hero Harry Potter). And Molly wanted her children to be happy so if Ginny was in love with Harry she was going to marry Harry and nothing ( _nobody_ ) was going to get in her way.

Sure Ginny fought and argued for her friend, but children don’t always know what is best for them and after a few “discussions” Harry and Ginny got married. Soon after they were pregnant. Then pregnant again with twins.

See, Mother knows best.

She knew Harry was seeing Winifred - she would never call that girl Fred - more these days (his face on the clock neither at home, work, or travelling) but that was alright. His marriage with Ginny was doing so well now and they had children together to keep him there. And her little girl looked so much happier these days.

That’s all she really wanted after all, for her family to be safe and happy.


	38. Like That Ever Stopped Anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Just because a horrible man had been destroyed didn’t mean that all the bad people in the world were gone.

And some of those bad people wanted revenge. Revenge for their leaders death. Revenge against Harry Potter and what better way than through his children? What better target than a single mother?

Fred was hiding in a little hole of a room under the floor boards in her closet that her mommy had quickly placed her in when the first of her silent alarms went off. (Mommy was very careful. She had standard alarms set up by Bio-Dad, trickier meaner alarms set up by Uncle George and Draco-dragon, the special Lovegood alarms, and Muggle alarms set up by Aunt Hermione.)

She shifted slightly then bit her lip, she had to keep very quiet. She kept having flashes of hiding in another place – a hotel (she had thought she would be safe there). And people (she thought they were her friends) chasing her. She had to hide, had to set up traps, had to protect herself.

Suddenly she heard noises in the distance, raised voices and the sound of a body falling.

After what felt like forever, footsteps came near her hiding space. She curled her knees tight to her chest and tried not to shake. What if it wasn’t Mommy? What if the bad guys had hurt Mommy (Oh God, what would she do without Mommy?) and now they were coming for her and she hadn’t set a trap for them yet and……

“Sunbeam? You can come out now,” she heard her mother say.

 _Just because the voice is right, doesn’t mean it’s the same person_ something inside her whispered. Fred bit her lip harder, indecisively.

“What’s the name of the other Fred?,” she demanded shakily. Anyone else would think she was talking about Uncle George’s twin. Only Mommy knew about the dreams, only Mommy would know she meant…

“Winifred Burkle,” her mother, and it had to be her mommy, said calmly.

Fred quickly burst out of her hiding place and leaped into her Mommy’s arms. She was getting too big to be picked up, but sometimes it was necessary.

“Are you alright, my Leveret?,” she heard whispered into her ear.

She pulled away giggling, “That nickname only worked for my first year!”

Luna giggled too. “That’s true. Shall I call you my 'Young Adolescent Hare' instead?”

Fred continued giggling as her Mommy set her down and took her hand. They went into the living room where two men and one woman where unconscious and bound by magical rope. Fred eyed it nervously.

“Can we duct tape their hands as well?,” she asked.

Her mommy looked down at her considering, “Would it make you feel safer?”

She nodded her head.

“Then that is what I will do.” She got a roll from the kitchen and talked to Fred as she reinforced her magical bonds with the strong grey tape. “They weren’t terribly difficult to take care of really. One was already unconscious by the time he walked in the door from George and Draco’s wards.” She tilted her head considering, “By and by, they were probably alerted when they went off, and will probably be here soon.”

Fred giggled uncontrollably, “My Draco-dragon is going to be _so_ angry.” She knew how upset he got when he thought her or her mom was in danger.

“And I need to call Harry at the Ministry – I believe he is there tonight - to come pick these people up. We can’t have them simply hanging around. They do take up a lot of room on the living room floor,” she finished with the duct tape and headed to the Floo to make the call.

“What about the other two?” she asked when she was done.

“What dear?” her mommy grabbed her hand again and pulled her over to the sofa where they snuggled and waited keeping a wand on their prisoners until everyone else arrived.

“The other two bad people. You said one was knocked out by Uncle George and my Draco-dragon’s wards, but what about the other two?” Fred asked again.

“Oh, well one tripped over Feigenbaum – he’s quite alright you know how fast our wondrous Master of Chaos is. Well, I took advantage of the situation and took him out when he was down. I only truly had to duel with the woman,” she said airily.

“And I quite believe you’re right,” she continued after a moment, “Draco will be _very_ upset. The man who tripped over Feigenbaum was a classmate of his. Everyone believed he was dead.”

Fred shook her head solemnly, “Like that’s ever stopped anyone.”

Her mommy let out a loud startled laugh and Fred giggled as well. It just seemed funny.

Suddenly the fire blazed with an incoming person and Mommy’s arm tightened around her, abruptly her wand shifting to point at whoever was entering their home.

When her Draco-dragon appeared back-lit by the green flames of the Floo, Luna relaxed and Fred smile and waved. It was alright they were safe now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: The Fred stuff in the hotel I'm alluding to happened in the episode of Angel entitled Billy.


	39. Not From Delphi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

He knocked on the front door.

Harry bit his lip nervously as he waited for an answer. He knew he could come by Floo as he usually did, but he already felt so much like he was intruding in their lives - to just step into their living room unannounced seemed too much.

Luna answered the door, and there it was, the moment of surprise to see him (surprise that he was there at all) before she looked happy. Merlin, he was such a dick.

“Harry! Oh, this is a terrible shame. Fred isn’t here. I got back from work a bit early and George isn’t due to drop her off for a bit,” she smiled apologetically, “I know she will be awfully upset she missed you.”

Missed him – like she wouldn’t get the chance to see him again in the while. Like him coming around didn’t happen often. Because it didn’t. Damn.

“Actually Luna, can I talk to you for a second,” he asked nervously, “if you can spare a moment, that is,” he hurriedly added.

“Oh, oh of course,” Luna gestured Harry inside without a verbal invitation looking even more surprised. She led him to the kitchen table and after she offered him something to drink, which he turned down they both sat.

He stared at her for a moment, “It’s about Fred,” he said finally.

“Of course,” she said pushing a bit of her hair behind her ear.

“I….just….” after a few false starts he blurted out, “how do I get to her to be my daughter again?”

“Harry,” Luna tried to interrupt with a patient sigh.

“She has all of these other people now. And how I’ve treated you both. And I’m always so busy. With work and Ginny and the kids. And she always seems to be so busy _without_ me. And I know that’s no excuse and I’m not trying to make excuses it’s just….”

“Harry,” she tried again.

“How can I get her to love me again?” he said quickly. When the words rushed out of his mouth his eyes widened and he looked down flushing. That might have been what he meant deep down but, oh, that was not what he meant to say. He wondered if he had some sort of magical can’t-shut-up disease, first Seamus and now Luna.

“Oh Harry”, she said sadly, “you still don’t understand, do you?”

She grabbed his hands forcing him to look up into those huge wise eyes of hers that had never lied to him.

“You never had a chance to learn did you, Harry?” she said softly, “I had nine years with my mother before she died and then I still had Daddy.” Her eyes went distant for a second but then she came back and seemed to concentrate on him even more fully, squeezing his hands tighter.

“Family doesn’t work that way. Love doesn’t work that way,” her usually dreamy voice was adamant. “Fred didn’t stop loving you when you stopped coming to see her Harry. She just missed you.” She smiled sadly, “We both missed you.”

“But, but she has, you both have, Draco now,” he said as much as it pained him to “and everybody else…” he trailed off because she was shaking her head again in that knowing way.

“People aren’t replaced Harry. There isn’t a limit to the amount of love you can give or take. It isn’t a quantifiable variable as our Fred would say,” she finished with a quirk of her lip.

“Our daughter is really smart, huh?” he asked looking down at their joined hands.

“The Muggle schools tested her at genius levels.” she told him matter of factly.

He let out a startled bark of a laugh, “Wow.” And then he paused awkwardly again.

“You can be a part of her life Harry. She really does want you to be. I want you to be,” Luna said gently.

He looked back up at her with a slight smile, “How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?”

Her face cleared of all emotion, “I am the Oracle. I know all,” she said in a monotone her eyes holding his steadily.

He stared at her blankly.

Then she started laughing loud and hard, bringing her hands up to her face to cover the outburst, “Oh, Harry your face when I said that.”

His lips twitched it was so nice to see her so comfortable around him again, “Can we ever be friends again?” he found himself blurting out.

She stopped laughing abruptly like someone had turned a faucet off and he was afraid that was his answer that he had overstepped, had asked too much.

“Harry, you never _stopped_ being my friend,” Luna said simply.

He couldn’t do anything else but look at her, helpless as to what to say. Helpless in the face of this gift she kept giving him that he knew he didn’t deserve.

But she was there for him (like always) and changed the subject to a much easier topic. “So how is Seamus? I haven’t seen him or Dean in a hellhounds age - Ginny tells me you made a friend.”

This is what he had missed. Just this - from anyone else it would seem like teasing (how could it not) but with Luna it seemed very genuine thing to ask him “You made a friend?” the way she might Fred. And wait with those wide accepting eyes and expect a just as genuine a response. There were no pretenses with Luna.

So he answered, and they talked. And they laughed. _Friends_. Merlin, he had missed this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: Sorry about the Oracle line. That is a long running joke between my sister and I that has spread through our family quite a bit. I just had to put it in to see her reaction when she read it.


	40. Meticulously Honed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Narcissa flipped through the different models pictures she had been sent to look at. They all looked at the camera and smiled, flipped their hair, or tried to put on a fake bored air that Narcissa knew _she_ could do much better. She needed something different, something more.

She turned the next page and the girl looked at her disdainfully before something off to the side made her laugh genuinely - her laughter lighting up her face and causing her mane of blonde hair to fall back behind her delicate shoulders.

Narcissa checked the description. Part Veela. Yes, she had expected so. Young and not very experienced at hiding her emotions but she could work with that. Her authenticity might even be an asset - work well with the whole "unconcerned with others' opinion" look Pansy wished to present.

Yes this….Gabrielle. She would get this Gabrielle to be the model for the magazine. The face of Viperidae.

***

Narcissa invited the girl to the manor for the interview. She supposed this wasn’t the normal way to go about things, but really, why should she start worrying about only going about getting what she wanted the normal way _now_.

In person Gabrielle was even more beautiful – it was something they would have to work on. She needed her beauty to be translated seamlessly onto the page, it did Narcissa little good in person.

She was French but her English was flawless (if somewhat stilted at times) - something Narcissa appreciated. She spoke French herself, but she believed languages, like all skills, should be perfectly and meticulously honed.

When Narcissa laid out her proposition (it might be Pansy’s company, but she had put her in charge of this part of it) Gabrielle, much to her surprise, leapt at the chance.

“I am bored,” she explained “and this seems like something to do. Something new, something exciting. And I am gorgeous,” she gave a tired smile that seemed out of place on her young face, “there is no getting around that. I am part-Veela – it comes with the territory. I might as well use it to my advantage. Also, being here, I get to be close to my brother-in-law’s relatives,” her smile became happy and genuine again, “I am quite fond of _most_ of my family.”

“I understand what you mean exactly,” Narcissa said with a pleased smile. “I think we will get along quite well.”


	41. Days to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

May 2nd. They always get confused when they hear the date referred to as Victory Day. None of their families ever refer to it as that – no one who was directly involved with the Battle of Hogwarts does.

When they think of Victory Day they think of New Years. Victoire’s birthday is on New Years day and for as long as they could remember they would raise their glasses and toast “Happy Victoire Day!” when it reached midnight instead of saying “Happy New Years”. All gathered around in Hermione’s house where it had become a tradition to come and celebrate – she was the only one who had a tv. Rose would enlist Hugo’s patient help in doing a pirouette and V would roll her eyes and push back her perfect blonde hair with her black tipped fingernails and smile as Teddy threw his arm around her, his hair a festive silver and gold for the night at her request.

It was stupid anyway to call _that_ day Victory Day, Fred thought as she got older. As she was able to see how Teddy would curl in on himself on the second of May. That no matter how much she cuddled or tried to comfort the boy who seemed like a brother to her, nothing could make his hair become anything but dull and lifeless on the day both of his parents were killed by Death Eaters.

They would just sit on his bed and stare at a picture of his parents – happy and together (his father smiling and looking utterly content and his mother holding him as a baby her hair a bright joyful pink) for hours.

“Sometimes people just die, don’t they?” he said, breaking the silence. Not really looking for an answer. Teddy had never known his parents except in pictures and stories – he was long past asking fruitlessly why they had to be the ones to die (he had only actually asked the question once out loud, after his grandmother, always so strong, had cried in front of him he had never asked again).

“Yeah”, Fred whispered not taking her eyes off the picture but knowing deep down in a place the resonated hollowly that what she said was true, “yeah, they do.”


	42. Terribly Wonderful or Wonderfully Terrible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“So your Mom is working for Pansy’s lingerie shop? And she hired my sister-in-law?” George called down the isle as he walked around the shop and double checked all the shelves were fully stocked before they opened for the day.

“It’s not just a lingerie shop it’s “women’s clothing and accessories that have a sexy look and feel to them” and don’t be ridiculous Malfoys don’t work they have hobbies. As for Gabrielle, I'm sure she will be a marvelous addition to the team,” Draco said in a serious voice as he made sure there was enough spare change in the till. Verity, the girl who usually worked the counter, would probably be in pretty soon.

He looked up when he finished his statement and caught George’s eye when he turned around incredulously. They stared at each other for a long moment. Draco cracked first and they laughed hysterically for a long while.

“The worst part is, now, Pansy is hanging around the mansion all the time brainstorming with Mother. And then they’ll start gossiping and that will lead into talk about boys,” he lamented when he could stop laughing.

“What, Parkinson can’t get a man?” George asked sarcastically.

“Yes”, Draco said bluntly, “and she blames me. They both decided that they blame me. Not the fact that Pansy did her fair share of bitchiness in school - not to mention the whole Potter debacle. No, all. My. Fault.” Draco banged his head against the counter with each word.

George laughed at his friend’s antics, then he stopped abruptly. “Oh,” he said, “Oh no. I just had a terrible wonderful idea,” he grinned widely.

“Terribly wonderful or wonderfully terrible,” Draco asked suspiciously, used to this way of speaking by now. He slanted his eyes to look at the other man without moving his head from its place.

George laughed crazily, “A bit of both actually.”

“All my survival instincts are telling me to run,” Draco said mildly, he smirked. “I’m intrigued.”

The red headed, one eared man leaned down on the table at eye level with Draco and whispered mischievously, “What if we set Pansy up on a blind date?”

 

***

 

“So how did your date go?,” Draco asked the next when he saw her next in that carefully bored way she remembered so well from school and Pansy realized right then - right then that she had been set up.

She should have guessed before, but he had seemed so surprised himself when he knocked on her door and she opened it. And all through the night he had insisted that it was his brother’s fault. That sometimes his brother just tried to take things too far for a laugh. But he was polite and refused to stand up a lady and took her out to the fancy restaurant that had been reserved for them anyway. Never once during the night deigning to recognize the hateful stares coming at her from all sides. All in all, the date ended with him courteously bringing her back to her apartment door and bidding her goodnight. Pansy had thought nothing more would come of it. He was a _Gryffindor_ and a _Weasley_. They weren’t exactly each others’ types.

But now she knew _Draco_ had been in on the joke – had been making play with her love life. And she was not going to let that shit stand. “It went wonderfully,” she said pleasantly.

“What?,” Draco said mashing his newspaper a bit in his surprise and looking over at her.

“In fact,” she said narrowing her eyes and smiling widely, “we had such a lovely time that we’re going out again this Saturday.”

Pansy left him stunned in the Dining Room to go hunt for Narcissa. She would have to owl Percy when she got home. Another date wouldn’t be so bad anyway. Pansy hadn’t ever had anyone treat her so respectfully before. Especially with the business she was creating for herself now, it made for a pleasant change.


	43. I Felt You In My Legs Before I Ever Met You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title is a song lyric from the band Tegan & Sara.

She misses it she realizes.

The more time Ginny spends around Alicia and Katie, the more she notices it. The casual physical intimacy. They’ve never done anything blatant (in front of her – she’s sure they’ve done plenty in the privacy of their own home, they have been together for _years_ after all) but it’s just the little things.

Pushing the other’s hair out of her face when their hands are busy, an arm going around a waist as they walk by, fingers that linger on skin making eyes catch and knowing smiles exchanged. Always seeming to be trading touches in little ways.

It’s not that she thinks Harry and her should try again, she can see how that failed. How that was a little girl dream that crumbled under the light of day – under the reality of it. It’s just that her marriage is empty of this.

Ginny has love. She thinks sometimes she will burst with the amount of love she feels sometimes when she is surrounded by her kids. And Harry has become one of her best friends. But, this….

This is different and she recognizes that.

This is what Ron and Hermione have, what Bill and Fleur have, what George and Lee have, what her parents have. What she has seen building between Luna and Draco. What was always missing from her marriage.

It makes her feel like a terrible person to have such a full life (house, kids, marriage, friends) and still want so badly for _this_.

So she comes three times a week even though it’s not practice time yet. And volunteers to help them set up the fields and equipment for the next sport they’re going to be trying (lacrosse), and watches them interact covertly.

Because watching the way they’ll laugh and lean fully against each other without a thought or smile softly or wipe some ketchup from lunch off the edge of the others’ mouth hurts.

But it hurts more not to.


	44. May You Live In Interesting Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

McGonagall had known that her choices in staff would make for some interesting times when she hired them. What she hadn’t counted on, however, were the changes their choices in romantic partners might bring to Hogwarts.

No matter how many letters she had gotten about Blaise’s opening remarks to the students it was far better than the complications that could arrive out of the alternative – a teacher student romantic and sexual relationship. Something that had been a legitimate concern since at the time of hiring them, most of her staff had been only a year older then her 7th years (and one had been a bit younger). And she knew Mr. Zabini’s reputation he, to use the Sorting Hats turn of phrase, had lived quite a life. She was just happy he had decided to do that part of his “living” outside the castle.

Pravati although she flirted like she breathed and was easily physically affectionate with her sister and friends didn’t appear to truly want anyone in her life right now. She seemed to enjoy being playful and simply being alive. She could certainly respect that and her effortless joy was a breath of fresh air in the castle that sometimes felt weighted down by the memories of that horrible year (and all of the things she could have – should have done to better protect her – the – no they were _her_ children).

Her twin Padma was very different in temperament; she was a person who kept things close to the chest. She would only be mildly surprised to have a little Indian boy be sorted with the last name Patil in a few years that was part of a family that no one but her sister knew about. A family she maintained as calmly and fully as her Potions classroom but had not deigned to let her know about. It was not likely, but the point was any relationships the woman had no one would know unless she specifically wished for them to. Minerva was seriously thinking of making the Head of Ravenclaw her Deputy Headmistress as well.

Percy, the by the books, straight laced Weasley boy was dating perhaps one of the most widely hated still living people from the Battle of Hogwarts. Pansy Parkinson. It did not seem like a pairing that equated to her. _At all._ But, she did not get involved in her staff’s love lives (no matter how ill advised they seemed).

Susan came from a long line of strong women who found a career they loved and devoted their lives to it entirely. Her aunt Amelia, who had been a dear friend, had done this with law. And normally she would be happy that she caught a Bones woman who she knew would be passionate about her topic and teach her students with zeal for many many years to come. But perhaps Minerva was getting old and sentimental because she found herself hoping that unlike her aunt and so many in her family (and so many witches who became professionals) it didn’t become an either or choice to Susan. Either love or career.

Merlin, she was getting soft, it must be all the contact with Neville and Hannah. Who, in turn proved, quite well that you could do both. Hannah was a MediWitch of great acclaim and Neville was one of her teachers. They still refused to reside within the castle – continuing to live within one of the greenhouses even though they had a child now. Poppy happily lent her services to watch over their child during the day and Neville picked her up when he didn’t have classes. It was a tad unconventional and she had a few complaints, especially when Neville occasionally took care of the baby in class if the infirmary was busy. But, she had a much greater outcry from parents when there was temporarily a substitute. He had taken some time off to spend with Hannah and baby Ivy when she had first given birth. So, she supposed that was her answer (not that she would have ever even considered firing him to begin with).

Then there was Millicent and Dennis; the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin – they were always having debates about history and war. Comparing the Muggle and Magical past, they always seemed to be fighting or bickering but she wondered if anyone else noticed that that meant that they were always communicating. That Dennis who was bitter and angry at the entire Wizarding World and Millicent who had grown up being taught that Muggle-borns were useless, were almost always seen talking. She didn’t believe it was anything romantic it was just odd to see two people who were so very different - yet so very much the same - and were the Heads of two of the most adversarial Houses be friends. Have this sort of respect for each other you had to squint and turn your head to see. It reminded Minerva sharply of Severus and her before things got so bad in the world again. She wondered if the Hat always chose Heads of Houses such as this - if Gordic and Salazar really had been quite similar on the onset.

Oddly, out of all of her young staff, it was Oliver that worried her the most. He put on a bright cheery front and was polite to everyone and he was undoubtedly beloved by his students (as fanatic about Arithmancy as he ever was about Quidditch). But, he didn’t seem to be making any bonds. Always part of a team in the past, if you looked closely he seemed to have somehow now separated himself from everyone. He would smile and have small talk about the weather but then if he was invited anywhere he would have some excuse (grading papers, needing to owl his mum, research he wanted to do for lesson plans). Since she had hired him, she had never seen him _leave_ the grounds.

Minerva knew she shouldn’t interfere - they were all adults now (had become adults far to soon). But, it hurt her to see the boy who had been the bright eyed obsessive Captain for her House’s Quidditch team seem to turn into a living ghost before her eyes - tethered to Hogwarts by memories, unable to move on.

Great Gordic, was she woolgathering in verse or something now? She _was_ getting soft.

“Shut up, Hat” she muttered automatically.

“I didn’t even say anything this time!,” it proclaimed rousing itself indignantly from its corner.

“You were thinking it,” Minerva gathered some of the scrolls on her desk, falling easily into the comforting banter.

“Well…….” It hedged and she smiled.


	45. Activate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“I’m worried about Ginny,” she stated.

“Hmm,” Angelina said stirring the soup. Katie came up behind her and set her chin on the other woman’s shoulder and watched as she threw in some more vegetables before stirring it some more.

“Ginny,” she repeated, “I’m worried about her.”

“Why?," Angelina asked distractedly checking the recipe.

“You mean _besides_ all the broken hearted staring she’s been doing lately?” Katie replied sarcastically.

Angelina chuckled slightly, “I was wondering if you had noticed that, too.”

“Of course I noticed,” Katie said burying her face in Angelina’s shoulder, “at first I thought maybe she was still weirded out by the whole lesbian thing. But now, I think something might be up with her.

Angelina finished what she was doing with their dinner, set the spoon on the counter, and turned around wrapping her arms loosely around her lover.

“And now you think we should talk to her,” she said knowingly.

“Well yeah,” Katie said with a shrug, “if something is wrong with her, maybe we can help out. I mean we knew her and all in school, but she’s become a great help at the Club and a really good friend.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help her Katie, it’s just I’m not really sure what you think we can do,” Angelina said gently running a hand across the other woman’s back.

“We could combine and activate our super lesbian powers to defeat the menace?,” Katie asked hopefully, biting her lip.

Angelina gave her fond smile, “You watched Saturday morning cartoons with my brother when we spent Christmas there, didn’t you?”

“Hey!,” Katie defended bringing up a hand to play with her partner’s hair, “not many pureblood families have televisions. The fact that yours did was kind of a novelty.”

“What can I say,” Angelina shrugged backing up into the living room with a grin, “not all pureblood families have daughters with super lesbian powers either.”

With a laugh Katie pulled her over to the couch and kissed her. They had some time to hone their super lesbian powers until the soup was done.


	46. How We Celebrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Padma must already have had a couple of drinks in her, because she was dancing by herself to the jazz music playing quietly on the radio – her eyes closed, hands above her head and her body moving slow and loose to the rhythm. Her usually braided hair was unbound and swinging in time with her body. Dean was lying on his back stretched out on the sofa watching her upside down.

“Can I paint you?” he asked suddenly.

Her eyes popped open and she gave him her little Mona Lisa smile.

In another corner Hannah, Pravati and Luna were all squished into a love seat together talking quick and happy - their hands gesturing wildly (almost hitting each other at times) and their voices often interspersed with loud sudden laughter.

Susan and Neville had their heads bowed together and were having a serious conversation at his kitchen table - scribbling different things emphatically on a piece of paper every once in a while. They were probably playing another hangman tournament. Their words would get oddly longer and more specialized into their fields as they got progressively drunker.

Seamus watched it all silently, sitting on the floor leaning against the wall in his living room. He might have his pub now but he never forgot what idea spurred it and every year he closed down for the day (although he could probably rake in the cash) and they had these gatherings – and still refused to call them “Victory Parties.”

The first time had been mainly Hannah’s idea and they had invited everyone in DA, but most people had other plans and didn’t understand that this wasn’t just another party – eventually it had dwindled to just them. Their little group of misfits. Now they didn’t do invitations just owled each other and agreed on a time to start (the end was always the same – whenever they woke up the next day).

It wasn’t about remembering the dead, it wasn’t about remembering their “glory days” at Hogwarts. This was the one time of year they were all sure to actually see each other (especially in the case of Dean) so they spent the time catching up. Talking. Living. Surrounded by people that trusted each other absolutely - just _being_ without any pressure.

He let out an “oomph” as suddenly a body collided with his side with a giggle. Seamus looked down and saw Luna Lovegood looking up at him with her head leaning against his shoulder. He was glad she could be here. She had missed quite a few because of her kid. He wondered if he should feel awkward about the whole Harry situation.

“I heard you made a friend,” she said with a bright unabashed grin, her eyes sparkling with more than just alcohol.

Guess not.


	47. Being Good Isn't Always Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: I could just say the title is just a phrase, but honestly, I heard it while listening to 'Son of a Preacher Man' sung by Dusty Springfield.

Fred felt nervous.

She liked her Christmas tradition how it was now: Buying presents for people all through the year with her mommy as something perfect caught their eyes. Baking cookies in the shapes of snorkacks and decorating their entire home with lights in the weeks leading up to the holiday. Going to the hospital with Mommy, Uncle Neville, Aunt Hannah, and Ivy on Christmas Eve morning to visit Grandaddy. Then coming back to the Greenhouse to drink hot coco and exchange presents. Coming home to find even more presents had accumulated under the tree from all of her Aunts and Uncles. Waking up to Uncle George and Uncle Lee rummaging around their kitchen to make a huge breakfast that would last them all the way through lunch. Laughing and opening all the presents and just lounging around all day. Around dinner time her Uncles would leave for the Burrow – some place she had never been.

Where she was going now.

Fred bit her lip and fiddled with the sleeve of her green velvet dress (she had picked it out when she was with Aunt Hannah and Rose - she liked the way it felt). She knew the Burrow wasn’t a scary place. Uncle George grew up there (and Aunt Ginny, and Uncle Percy, and Uncle Charlie, and Uncle Ron, and Uncle Bill). And Grandpa Arthur lived there.

Grandma Molly lived there.

Fred knew this was important. That this was what Bio-dad’s family did every year and he was trying to include them in his family. And the fact that he was doing it at Grandma Molly’s meant something.

But it made her stomach feel tight.

And she wouldn’t have Teddy or her Draco-dragon there with her (Mommy told her that a lot of the people at the party didn’t get along with her Draco-dragon and maybe, for this first time at least, it should just be the two of them). And V was with Aunt Fleur’s family for Christmas and wouldn’t be down until her birthday/New Year's party at Aunt Hermione’s house.

There was still Hugo and Rose. And Uncle George and Uncle Lee. Oh! And in his last letter Uncle Charlie said he would be down for the holidays as well. If she just stuck to them and her mommy she would probably be alright.

Her mother was suddenly in front of her and crouched to her eye level, “If it gets to be too much,” she whispered gently leaning her forehead against hers, “we can leave. At anytime, Sunbeam.”

Fred didn’t answer for a second. Her eye had caught her mother’s right earring. A silver hare with red ruby eyes that glowed when they caught the light in the same way that Feigenbaum’s did. They were actually a little tame for her mom’s usual taste – they had been a gift last year from her Draco-dragon. There was always a little second Christmas the Saturday afterwards when Teddy and her Draco-dragon came by. And the fact that even though he wouldn’t be able to come with them to the Burrow a part of him was still tagging along comforted her. Made Fred relax a little.

“Alright, Mommy,” she said calmly meeting her eyes.

Luna gave her a proud smile and a brief hug before standing up and taking her hand, leading her to the fire - to the Burrow.


	48. I Don't Want To Wonder If This Is A Blunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title is a lyric to a song by the band Cake.

"I told Katie and Angelina about us today,” Ginny told him as they made the bed. Harry supposed this could be done with magic but neither of them had ever been good at household charms.

“Really,” he said in surprise looking at her over the side of the bed he was tucking covers into. “I know you’ve been spending a lot of time at the Sports Club while the kids are at school but I thought we weren’t telling many people. What made you decide to tell them?”

“They were worried about me,” she said standing when she finished her side, her smile was wistful. “Apparently I’ve been doing a lot of sad staring at them lately,” she said with a chuckle.

Harry chuckled and stood up as well, “Seamus told me I used to do a lot of lost puppy staring too.” He shook his head and grinned, “He used to call me an asshat puppy.”

Ginny gazed at him fondly, “Do you have feelings for him Harry?” she asked bluntly.

Harry felt as if everything stood still for a moment. He thought of all the time he had spent, not drinking but talking. How good it was to have a friend again, but that this had felt different from his friendship with Ron and Hermione right from the start. Different from _all_ of his friendships. The way the other man always called him on his shit. How Seamus was the voice in his head. How he was noticed how close Seamus was to him (the heat of his body beside his) whenever they sat on his couch.

“Do you have feelings for Angelina and Katie?”, he asked instead of answering. He felt very aware of how wide their bed was. Such a huge physical barrier separating them.

Ginny looked down and traced the pattern in the bed sheets gently with her fingertip for a moment before looking back up and meeting his eyes.

“I might, Harry,” she said her voice barely a whisper, “I know I can’t stop watching them. I’m-“ she swallowed, “I’m not ruling it out.”

“I might, too,” Harry admitted quietly. “with Seamus that is,” he quickly amended.

Ginny quirked her lip, “I figured.” She sat down on the bed and he tentatively did as well.

“Are we making a mess of things, Ginny? I mean, I don’t want to upset the kids and there’s your mother and…,” he admitted his worries.

“I think,” she interrupted him, “that we’re finally trying to be happy,” she said slowly as if coming to the revelation herself. “And if we’re honest with ourselves and each other and Seamus, Angelina, and Katie the whole time…”

“And we make sure our family never suffers,” he added knowing he had been guilty of that with Fred.

Ginny nodded, “then we can just see how things go.”

Harry nodded as well. They stared at each other for a moment before they both slowly started to smile, “I think this whole talking and being honest with each other thing just reached a whole new level of odd,” he stated.

Ginny laughed and hit him in the head with a pillow.


	49. If Home is Really Where the Heart Is (Then We’re the Smartest Kids I Know)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title is a lyric to a song by Kimya Dawson.

Fred woke up with a start - not a nightmare just suddenly absolutely awake. She flipped over and grabbed her glasses from the end table, leaning forward until she was nose to nose with Feigenbaum who was perched there as well.

“Today’s the day,” she whispered to the Master of Chaos before rolling out of bed completely and running into her mommy’s room. She climbed on the bed and started jumping up and down.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” she chanted. Her Draco-dragon moaned and burrowed under some pillows and her mommy giggled, “I see my Sunbeam has risen for the day.”

“Come on you guys, you have to get up! Today’s the day!” Fred said stopping her jumping and just standing in the middle of the bed instead.

“Oh, yes,” her mother said calmly rubbing her eyes.

“What are you two talking about,” they heard come muffled from the direction of some white blonde hair sticking out from under a stack of pillows.

“Teddy’s leaving for Hogwarts!” Fred said loudly throwing out her arms to make it even more dramatic.

Draco sat up abruptly, his hair in utter disarray, all the pillows that had been on top of him falling off either on the bed or the floor. “Damn,” he muttered. His eyes darted to the 10 year old Fred watching him then to Luna and back. “Sorry, but bloody hell I have to get over there now. I promised Teddy I would take him along with Aunt Andy,” he explained running his hands through his hair trying to make it lay flat.

He leaned over and gave Luna a morning kiss then grabbed Fred in a big hug as he stood up, dropping her on the bed afterwards. She giggled as she bounced a bit on the mattress.

“I’ll see you both at the station,” he yelled as he tried to put on a clean shirt and pants from the dresser and walk out the door at the same time.

“Draco,” her mommy said calmly.

“Yeah,” he stuck his head back in the door, obviously impatient.

“Your shirt is inside out," Luna stated.

“Damn!,” he cursed again and simply took out his wand to fix his clothes.

They heard the Floo disengage and Fred turned to her Mom and they immediately burst out laughing.

“Alright then,” her mother said, “I’ll make breakfast while you get dressed. The train won’t wait you know. “

 

***

 

“Uncle George, Uncle Lee” she screamed waving widely when she saw them. She ran up to them, her mother only a few steps behind and threw her arms around first one then the other. “What are you two doing here?”

“Dropping off Lee’s nephew,” George said.

“Montgomery here’s parents live a ways away so they want us to keep an eye on him since we live so close by,” Lee explained. She could hear him still talking but Fred wasn’t listening, she didn’t know how she had missed the other boy when she first ran up.

“What?” Montgomery asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously at her staring.

“No-nothing,” Fred said biting her lip, “you just remind me of someone.” And he did with his closely shaven head, dark skin, and warm brown eyes. She felt shy and oddly fascinated. She could see the adults trading looks over their heads and she flushed.

“We could ask you the same thing Fredikins,” George broke the awkwardness, “you don’t head off to the illustrious Warts of Hog until next year.”

She looked up at him, grateful for the interruption, “I’m here to see off....,”

Suddenly she was jostled from behind, “Me!,” Teddy said throwing the arm not dragging his school things around her jovially and finishing her sentence. Fred saw her Draco-dragon and Ms. Andy coming up behind them.

“Teddy Remus Lupin, don’t drag your luggage it will get all scratched up and dirty,” Andromeda chided trying to be stern but she was smiling proudly.

The train whistled and Teddy gave everyone goodbye hugs (his one with his grandmother getting slightly tearful) and Fred waited to go last. When it was finally her turn threw her arms around him and squeezed him as tight as she could he squeezed back just as hard.

“You write all the time, ya here. I’m going to miss you something crazy,” she whispered fiercely into his ear.

When they pulled away his eyes were shiny and couldn’t decide on what color to be but he smiled and gestured to his yellow-eyed grey owl saying, “Moony is going to get quite a work out between GrAndy, you and V.”

“Speakin’ of our dear Victorie,” she said mischievously tugging at his hair.

“Which of their colors did you two decide on?” he asked curiously.

“All of them,” Fred said her grin splitting her face.

His eyes widened momentarily, than he closed his eyes for a second in concentration his hair shifting into tufts of red, green, silver, blue, bronze, gold and black – representing all of the Houses of Hogwarts.

“Oh, Teddy,” his grandmother said tiredly shaking her head at him. But when his eyes popped open she was smiling through her exasperation with his antics – the usual then. “Just get on the train before you miss it.”

He turned to Montgomery, “Hey you want to share a cabin?” he asked casually.

“Sure,” the other boy said.

They grabbed their luggage and pets and lugged them on the train.

“So, do you like Quidditch?,” Teddy asked.

“Of course,” Montgomery replied with a bright grin. “Uncle Lee took me to one of the games he was commentating on since I’ve been in town, it was really cool…..”

Fred watched them go.

She felt hands on her shoulders and looked up. It was her mom looking down at her, smiling softly.

“Don’t worry my little Sunbeam, you’ll get to go next year."

“What if he forgets me?,” she whispered not looking away from her Mommy’s eyes.

“He won’t forget you,” she said gently brushing a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear, “even when the mind is made to forget something you can’t erase it from the heart. And dear, you are his sister in everything but blood, you are certainly close to his heart.”

Fred looked back down as the train started to pull out. She would trust her mother on this she decided, as she waved to Teddy and Montgomery from the window, she seemed to know about such things. And although not scientific, or even magical really, the knowledge _felt_ right. And that counted for something.


End file.
